LONDON 
LAVENDER 


EVLUCAS 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

RIVERSIDE 


LONDON    LAVENDER 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK   •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO 
DALLAS   •    SAN    FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Limited 

LONDON  •  BOMBAY  •  CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Ltd. 

TORONTO 


LONDON 
LAVENDER 


AN    ENTERTAINMENT 


BY 


E.  V.   LUCAS 

AUTHOR    OF    "  OVER    BEMERTOn'8," 
"MR.    INGLESIDE,"     ETC. 


2_ 


Wein  fforfc 

THE   MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

1912 

^?//  rights  reserved 


Copyright,  1912, 
By  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.     Published  September,  1912. 


NorSnooo  $rc30 

J.  8.  Cusbing  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 

Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


A   CHOICE   OF   MOTTOES 

".  .  .  across  the  field  of  vision  .  .  .  " — Optician's  Catalogue. 
''Nothing  doing."  —  Stock  Exchange  Bulletin. 


"It  is  almost  impossible  to  exclude  truth  altogether.'" 

—  Observers  Corner. 

"The  mixture  as  before."  —  Dr.  William  Osier. 


203       i5 


NOTE 

PRY  as  I  might  to  prevent  it,  certain  characters 
-*■  from  Listeners  Lure,  Mr.  Ingleside,   and  par- 
ticularly Over  Bemertorts,  would  keep  breaking  into 
this  book. 

I  have  to  thank  Mr.  Cecil  Sharp  for  permission 
to  reproduce  the  music  on  pages  26,  27,  and  276. 
That  on  pages  143  and  144,  also  due  to  his  courtesy, 
is  now  published  for  the  first  time. 

E.  V.  L. 


vli 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     In  which  a  new  home  is  found,  and  the  status  of 

anthropoid  apes  is  carefully  determined        .         .         I 

II.  In  which  the  four  gentlemen  above  us  obtain  their 
characters,  and  Primrose  Terrace  is  rudely  dis- 
turbed   7 

III.  In  which  a  visit  is  paid  to  a  red-haired  lady,  and 

certain  members  of  London's  foreign  population 

are  enumerated    .         .         .         .         .         .  15 

IV.  In  which  I  am  forbidden  to  be  idle,  and  therefore 

find  congenial  employment .         .         .         .         .21 

V.     In  which  we  find  lovers  of  two  kinds,  and  meet  with 

a  poignant  invention   ......       30 

VI.     In  which  we  meet  the  first-floor-back,  and  find  that 

the  milk  of  human  kindness  still  runs  39 

VII.     In  which  Mr.  Dabney  warms  his  house  with  a  dis- 
cussion, and  I  am  glad  to  get  home     ...       47 

VIII.  In  which  an  honest  couple  who  never  did  anyone 
any  harm  are  seen  on  the  brink  of  the  struggle 
with  prosperity    .......       56 

IX.  In  which  the  top-floor-back  turns  out  to  be  an 
acquaintance,  and  schemes  are  unfolded  for  the 
salvation  of  an  effete  race     .....       64 

X.     In  which  we   find  ourselves  in  the  bosom  of  an 

English  family,  and  watch  a  Utopian  in  love         .       71 

XI.  In  which  there  is  trouble  in  the  house  of  Wiles 
owing  to  a  husband  once  again  getting  his  own 

way 

ix 


80 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XII.  In  which  the  first-floor-front  unfolds,  and  some  of 
the  secrets  of  a  remarkable  modern  invention 
are  laid  bare     .......       84 

XIII.  In  which  Mrs.  Duckie  discusses  the  duties  of  life, 

and  Mr.   Bemerton  introduces   me   to   certain 
village  pessimists      ......       93 

XIV.  In  which  a  jovial  party  joins  England's  annual 

Saturnalia,  and  a  new  Knight  philosophizes  on 

his  greatness 106 

XV.  In  which  I  am  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  the 
ring,  and  am  more  bewildered  than  usual  by 
my  countrymen's  avoidance  of  facts  .         .  115 

XVI.  In  which  four-legs  make  much  anxiety  for  two- 
legs,  and  Sir  Gaston  develops  occult  gifts  .     122 

XVII.  In  which  an  old  gambler  (retired  from  business) 
tells  of  a  triumph,  and  the  younger  generation 
in  love  comes  under  review       .         .         .         .129 

XVIII.  In  which  Sussex  voices  are  raised  in  melody, 
Uncle  Jonah  gives  his  memory  play,  and  we 
meet  a  Napoleonic  Quaker        .         .         .         .     139 

XIX.  In  which  inadvertently  I  become  a  public  char- 
acter and,  also  inadvertently,  give  an  opportunist 
an  idea     .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .     151 

XX.  In  which  a  number  of  craftsmen  discuss  their 
practices,  and  Mr.  Lacey  defines  the  things  that 
matter 155 

XXI.     In  which  we  watch  an  impulsive  good  Samaritan's 

deeds  and  hear  his  self-reproaches    .         .         .165 

XXII.  In  which  the  Wynnes  and  ourselves  make  a  jour- 
ney to  Italy,  and  find  the  Middle  Ages      .         .172 

XXIII.     In  which  we  luxuriate  in  a  tideless  sea  and  witness 

a  bloodless  battle      .         .        .        .         .         .183 


CONTENTS 


XI 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIV.  In  which  an  experiment  is  made  in  quickening 
the  intelligence  of  the  young,  with  distressing 
results  ........     187 

XXV.  In  which  we  make  the  mistake  of  preferring 
"rich  eyes"  to  comfort,  and  taste  the  ques- 
tionable pleasures  of  a  minute  Republic  .     199 

XXVI.     In   which    two  modern    lovers   lay  their  cases 

before  me,  and  I  do  nothing  for  either  .         .     206 

XXVII.  In  which  a  company  of  intelligent,  and,  for  the 
most  part,  conceited,  men  meet  more  than 
their  match 213 

XXVIII.     In  which  we  lose  a  few  centuries,  and  find  a 

living-picture  by  Sir  David  Wilkie  .         .     220 

XXIX.  In  which  Naomi  communicates  a  tremendous 
piece  of  news,  and  "  Placida "  fights  it  out 
with  "  Lavender  "  and  loses    ....     225 

XXX.  In  which  we  journey  to  the  north  by  nefarious 
means,  and  Naomi  and  I  stumble  on  a  pre- 
cisely similar  feeling 230 

XXXI.  In  which  we  meet  a  Warden  and  her  charges, 
and  hear  two  or  three  stories  of  stormy 
voyages  on  life's  waters  before  haven  was 
reached 236 

XXXII.     In  which  I  at  last  become  acquainted  with  the 

top-floor-front  and  hear  his  romantic  story      .     247 

XXXIII.  In  which  I  become  the  very  opposite  of  a  thief, 

yet  feel  all  a  thief's  sense  of  guilt  .         .         .     258 

XXXIV.  In  which  I  bring  together  three  men  who  were 

due    to    meet,   and    a    novel   and   beneficial 
scheme  is  decided  upon        ....     266 

XXXV.     In  which  Lavender  Falconer  enters  this  life  and 

meets  with  general  approval  ....     275 


xii  LONDON  LAVENDER 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXXVI.     In  which  Mrs.  Duckie  employs  an  annihilating 

phrase  which  so  rankles  that  it  seems  almost  r 

absurd  to  go  on  at  all  .         .         .         .         .     278 

XXXVII.     In  which  a  trying  ceremony  goes  for  nothing, 

and  a  father  puts  down  his  foot    .         .         .     287 

XXXVIII.     In  which  farewell  is  said  to  Primrose  Terrace, 

and  the  earth  finds  a  new  axis     .        .         .     294 


SOME   OF  THE    PEOPLE    IN    THE    BOOK 

Annie.     An  adopted  child. 

Barbara.     An  ourang-outang. 

Bemerton,  Joseph.     A  second-hand  bookseller. 

Carstairs,  John.     A  recluse. 

Cole,  Miss.     An  arbiter. 
^Dabney,  Mr.     A  London  editor. 

Devon,  John.     A  novelist. 

Dimmage,  James.     A  carpenter. 

"  Director,  The."     A  folk-song  enthusiast. 
,-  Drax,  Martha.     An  inmate  of  the  Pink  Almshouses. 

Duckie,  John.     A  waiter. 

Duckie,  Martha.     His  wife. 

Englishman,  The.     An  Italian  bathing  man. 
^Falconer,  Kent.     The  narrator  of  this  story. 

Falconer,  Naomi.     His  wife. 

Falconer,  Lavender  (Nan).     A  mite. 

Farrar,  Algernon.     A  young  motorist  of  means. 

Farrar,  Gwendolen.     His  wife. 

Freeland,  Nancy.     Robert  S  panto  n's /£#«£&  (for  a  time). 

Furley,  Sam.     A  maker  of  cinema  films. 

Golden  Eagle,  The.     An  innkeeper. 
-Harberton,  Edith.     Lynn  Harberton's  wife. 

Harberton,  Lynn.     A  rural  dilettante,  her  husband. 

TT         '  T     !     £•     Ancient  Morris  dancers. 
Hayes,  Jack.  ) 

y  Heathcote,  Adolphus.     A  young  man  about  town. 

>Ingleside,  Ann.     Engaged  to  Adolphus  Heathcote. 

/Ingleside,  Sir  Gaston.     A  civil  servant. 

Lacey,  Nathan.     A  good-natured  man. 

Leigh,  Starr.     A  novelist. 

xiii 


xiv  LONDON  LAVENDER 

Louisa.     A  Chimpanzee. 

Mitt,  Miss  Lydia.     The  Warden  of  the  Pink  Almshouses. 

Muggeridge,  James.     A  pipe  and  tabor  player. 

Murchison,  James.     See  Carstairs. 

Packer,  Emma.  )     Twins  and  landladies. 

Packer,  Laura.    ) 

Rudson-Wayte,  Mr.     A  politician. 

Sankville,  Matthew.     A  novelist. 

Spanton,  Robert.     A  Socialist. 

Speyde,  William.     A  novelist. 

Still,  Selina.     An  inmate  of  the  Pink  Almshouses. 

Surely,  Jonah.     A  shepherd. 

Wiles,  Mordecai.     A  keeper  at  the  Zoo. 

Wiles,  Susan.     His  wife. 

Wynne,  Mrs.  Frank.     A  mother. 


LONDON    LAVENDER 


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LONDON    LAVENDER 

CHAPTER  I 

IN  WHICH  A  NEW  HOME  IS  FOUND  AND  THE 
STATUS  OF  ANTHROPOID  APES  IS  CARE- 
FULLY  DETERMINED 

HAVING  once  decided  —  very  much  against  my 
will  (such  as  it  is)  —  to  leave  my  old  single 
rooms  at  Mrs.  Duckie's,  the  question  where  to  live  was 
before  us.  Far : enough  away  to  make  a  good  walk 
in  fine  weather,  was -a  point,  c  n,  which  Naomi  insisted 
first  of  all,  an&;'$qftgjed,  it, was, because  M-ks.< Duckie's 
house  was  too  near-  Queen  An ae'p  G;.,te  that  her  hos- 
tility to  it  was  so  firm. 

'  '.  "It's  no  nearer  than  it  was  before  we  were  married," 
I  pointed  out.     "In  fact,  just  the  same  distance." 

"Yes,"  said  Naomi,  "and  look  how  you  suffered  for 
want  of  exercise."  (Did  I?)  "No,  we  must  live 
farther  away  from  it  all.  That's  absolutely  necessary." 

By  "it"  she  meant  her  father's  house  in  particular; 
Pall  Mall ;  and  an  area  bounded  by  the  Haymarket 
Theatre  in  the  South,  Kreisler  and  Casals  in  the 
North,  and  Bond  Street  in  the  West;  but  we  were  to 
be  not  so  far  as  to  be  more  than  one  and  tenpence 


2  LONDON  LAVENDER 

(the  frugal  young  woman's  limit,  with  twopence  for 
the  blackguard  chauffeur)  in  a  taxi ;  we  were  to  have 
contiguity  to  an  open  space ;  nice  rooms ;  and  a 
comfortable  landlady  who  could  cook.  For  we 
agreed  that  we  wanted  no  oven  responsibilities  of  our 
own,  although  a  chafing  dish  was  to  fortify  the  menu 
on  occasion. 

These  were  not  very  exacting  conditions,  and  at 
7  Primrose  Terrace,  close  to  Regent's  Park,  we  found 
as  complete  an  approximation  as  this  vale  of  tears 
and  disappointment  is  equal  to  offering,  the  rooms 
being  large  and  just  vacated  by  an  old  occupant  with 
a  very  high  standard  of  comfort :  a  self-protective 
gentleman  of  means  whom  the  gods  had,  mercifully 
for  us,  visited  with  a  nervous  breakdown,  making  two 
years'  travel  in  warmer  climes  $A  obligation.  As  that 
sententi'ous'.arhateur.  Herbert 'Trist,  savs,  "The  art  of 
life  is  to -succeed  a  good  tenant. '' 

Our,  ;lar»diady  is  a  twin  —  two  sisters,  the  Misses 
Laura  and  Emma  Packer,  unmarried,  very  refined, 
fragile,  and  Victorian,  who  are  assisted  in  the  duties 
of  the  house  by  a  worthy  rotund  woman  named 
Mrs.  Wiles.  One  of  my  earliest  proceedings  after 
becoming  the  tenant  having  been  to  take  the  steps 
necessary  for  election  to  a  fellowship  of  the  Zoological 
Society  of  London,  you  may  judge  of  my  satisfaction 
to  learn  that  Mrs.  Wiles'  husband  was  no  other  than 
the  head  keeper  of  the  ape  house.  Here  was  a  friend 
at  court  who  had  it  in  his  power  to  make  even  the 
Zoo  more  agreeable. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  3 

But,  once  again  to  prevent  misunderstanding,  let 
me  remark  that  when  we  say  ape  —  Mrs.  Wiles  and  I 

—  we  mean  ape  and  ape  only.  For  there  are,  it 
seems,  persons  so  lost  to  nice  feelings  and  etymological 
exactitude  that  they  speak  of  apes  and  monkeys  in- 
discriminately as  though  they  were  the  same,  whereas, 
of  course,  monkeys  are  only  monkeys  —  gibbering  un- 
reticent  shameless  travesties  of  the  worst  kind  of  man 

—  while  apes  are  without  tails,  and  have  a  certain 
patient  dignity,  and  lay  serious  claim  to  the  attention 
of  the  theorizing  biologist. 

"No,"  said  Mrs.  Wiles,  "not  monkeys.  Not  Wiles. 
I  don't  say  as  how  I  am  overjoiced  when  I  meet  a 
lady,  as  it  might  be  Mrs.  Johnson  last  evening,  and 
after  she  has  asked  me  what  my  husband  does  and 
I've  told  her  he's  an  official  in  the  employ  of  the 
Zoological  Society,  she  says,  'Oh,  a  keeper,  I  sup- 
pose'; and  when  I  say,  severe  like,  'A  head  keeper,' 
she  says,  as  they  all  do,  the  same  two  things,  sometimes 
one  first  and  sometimes  the  other,  but  always  the  same 

—  'Oh,  I  hope  it's  not  the  monkey  house/  and  'Could 
you  possibly  give  me  two  tickets  for  next  Sunday 
afternoon  ? ' " 

Mrs.  Wiles  now  and  then  stops  for  breath,  although, 
like  most  Londoners,  she  talks  without  apparently 
using  any,  and  this,  on  our  first  exchange  of  confi- 
dences on  the  matter,  enabled  me  to  ask  why  she 
thought  the  monkey-house  query  was  always  pro- 
pounded. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said,  "but  I  suppose  it's  be- 


4  LONDON  LAVENDER 

cause  to  most  people  the  Zoo  is  monkeys  first  and 
foremost.  It's  the  monkeys  they  want  to  see.  But 
Wiles  has  nothing  to  do  with  monkeys,  nothing 
whatever.  Wiles  has  charge  of  the  apes.  I  won't  go 
so  far  as  to  say  I  don't  sometimes  wish  it  was  lions 
or  elephants,  but  this  I  will  say,  that,  good  husband 
as  Wiles  is,  I  don't  think  I  could  live  with  him  if  it 
was  monkeys  pure  and  simple  —  although  how  anyone 
can  call  them  pure  and  simple,  I  can't  think.  Apes 
are  different,  aren't  they,  sir?  Wiles  says  that  apes 
are  the  next  things  to  us.  Wiles  says  they  have 
brains  and  beautiful  natures;  but  what  gives  me 
most  peace  of  mind  is  knowing  that  they  haven't  got 
tails.  Tails  would  be  too  much,  as  I  often  tell  him. 
I've  got  a  bit  of  writing  about  it  which  Wiles  found 
in  a  dictionary,  and  if  you'll  permit  me,  sir,  I'll  bring 
it  round  and  show  it  to  you  to-morrow  morning.  I 
always  keep  it  in  the  Bible,  handy." 

Mrs.  Wiles  unfolded  it  the  next  morning  and  I  read 
aloud  these  words:  "In  common  use  the  word  ape 
extends  to  all  the  tribe  of  monkeys  and  baboons,  but 
in  the  zoological  sense"  ("Ah  !"  said  Mrs.  Wiles, 
smoothing  her  apron)  "it  is  restricted  to  those  higher 
organized  species  of  the  Linnaean  genus  Simla,  which 
are  destitute  of  a  tail,  as  the  ourangs,  chimpanzees, 
and  gibbons." 

"There  !"  she  said  triumphantly,  when  I  had  finished. 

Our  opportunities  for  conversation  with  Mrs.  Wiles 
come  after  breakfast,  for  it  is  one  of  her  duties  to 
clear  away.    Wiles  and  she  appear  to  live  close  by, 


LONDON  LAVENDER  5 

and  she  moves  between  the  two  houses,  first  getting 
Wiles  his  breakfast,  packing  him  off  to  his  apes,  and 
"  redding  up"  her  own  home ;  then  locking  her  door  and 
"redding  up"  the  Misses  Packers' ;  then  returning  to 
prepare  Wiles 's  and  her  own  dinner ;  and  in  the  late 
afternoon  returning  to  the  Misses  Packers'  to  help 
them  with  theirs  and  ours.  Wonderful  creatures, 
women!  There  is  nothing  done  by  men  to  put  in  the 
balance  against  such  steady  undeviating  dreary  mule- 
work  as  women  cheerfully  perform.  At  least,  not  in 
England.  On  the  Continent  you  get  something  like 
it,  in  the  small  hotels  where  a  man  does  everything; 
but  not  here  —  not  in  the  land  of  public-houses. 

The  Misses  Packer,  our  tutelary  twins,  although 
aware  that  in  Mrs.  Wiles  they  have  a  treasure,  depre- 
cate her  volubility  in  our  rooms.  Like  all  consciously 
refined  persons,  they  have  no  appreciation  of  character, 
and  both  Miss  Laura  and  Miss  Emma  have  separately 
apologized  to  us  for  their  hireling's  familiarity  and 
hoped  we  will  not  allow  her  to  impose  upon  our  good 
nature.  What  is  to  be  done  with  people  like  this?  — 
and  they  are  everywhere. 

Miss  Laura  (who  claims  to  be  the  older  by  half  an 
hour,  and  has  will  power  to  justify  the  claim),  although 
she  has  been  in  the  lodging-house  business  for  years 
and  years,  still  affects  to  be  ashamed  of  it.  "  I  can't 
think  what  father  would  say  if  he  could  know  what 
we  were  doing,"  is  the  burden  of  her  life-song.  "  It's 
the  last  thing  he  would  ever  have  wished  his  girls'  to 
do  —  keep  a  lodging-house."     The  paternal  Packer,  it 


6  LONDON  LAVENDER 

seems,  was  related  distantly  but  sufficiently  to  a  City 
Sheriff,  and  himself  was  for  many  years  a  highly  re- 
spected messenger  in  one  of  the  older  London  banks. 
In  their  more  daring  moments  his  daughters  have,  I 
believe,  referred  to  him  quite  easily  as  a  banker,  or  at 
any  rate  have  permitted  the  impression  that  he  had 
charge  of  huge  sums  of  money  (as  indeed  he  had)  to  go 
uncorrected,  with  the  suggestion  added  that  events 
were  at  last  too  much  for  him,  and,  owing  to  financial 
depression,  due  to  vague  causes,  of  which  an  iniquitous 
Government  was  the  chief,  he  came  upon  heavy  losses 
and  poverty.  For  anyone  may  have  a  father  who  was 
a  business  failure ;  but  no  real  lady  would  confess  to 
springing  from  a  bank  messenger's  loins. 

Miss  Emma,  although  less  assertive  than  her  sister 
(as  becomes  one  born  so  long  after),  bleats  a  sym- 
pathetic chorus  to  the  lament;  and  to  her  sister's 
amazement  at  what  father  would  say  could  he  only 
see  his  girls  in  their  degrading  situation,  has  been 
known  to  remark,  "But  who  knows?  —  perhaps  he 
does  see  us  !  "  thus  calling  up  a  picture  of  the  vigilant 
bank  messenger  at  one  of  heaven's  loopholes  with 
but  this  drop  of  bitterness  —  his  daughters'  decline 
from  perfect  ladyhood  —  in  an  eternal  cup  of  bliss. 

They  are,  however,  good  women,  the  Packer  sisters, 
and  one  of  them  cooks  excellently,  and  if  some  of 
God's  creatures  have  brains  like  dried  peas  and  no 
imagination  at  all,  the  best  of  us  are  not  so  very 
wonderful. 


CHAPTER  II 

IN  WHICH  THE  FOUR  GENTLEMEN  ABOVE  US 
OBTAIN  THEIR  CHARACTERS  AND  PRIMROSE 
TERRACE   IS   RUDELY   DISTURBED 

ONE  of  the  first  questions  which  I  put  to  Mrs. 
Wiles  referred  very  naturally  to  the  other 
residents  of  the  house.  The  twins  had  severally  and 
collectively  assured  us  that  they  offered  hospitality 
to  none  but  gentlemen,  and  that  four  of  the  nicest 
gentlemen  living  were  at  present  under  their  roof; 
but  the  twins  have  no  discrimination.  To  them  a 
gentleman  is  a  gentleman  —  that  is  to  say,  a  trousered 
creature  who  lives  on  bacon,  makes  (compared  with 
a  lady)  no  trouble  at  all,  and  pays  his  rent.  Mrs. 
Wiles  has  a  more  observant  eye,  and  to  her,  therefore, 
I  resorted  for  the  finer  shades.  The  house,  it  appears, 
has  three  floors  and  a  basement.  The  first  floor  is 
ours;  above  are  four  rooms,  two  of  which,  at  the 
back,  belong  to  Mr.  Lacey  and  the  two  in  front  to 
Mr.  Furley;  above  these  is  the  top  floor  with  four 
more  rooms,  two  of  which  in  front  belong  to  Mr. 
Carstairs  and  two  at  the  back  to  Mr.  Spanton. 

Of  all   these,  Mr.    Carstairs  most  perplexes  Mrs. 
Wiles,  and  Mr.  Lacey  most  pleases  her.     Mr.  Car- 

7 


8  LONDON  LAVENDER 

stairs,  whom  she  refers  to  as  "a  nermit,"  I  occasion- 
ally see  on  the  doorstep  —  a  tall,  stooping  man,  once 
handsome,  with  a  face  as  profoundly  sad  as  any  of 
Mr.  Wiles's  charges.  "He  does  nothing,"  says  Mrs. 
Wiles.  "Retired,  I  suppose.  And  no  one  ever 
comes  to  see  him.  But  he's  always  polite  and  con- 
siderate." 

What  the  gentleman  has  retired  from,  I  gather, 
has  been  this  many  a  day  and  night  the  question 
which  has  occupied  the  curiosity  of  the  basement; 
since  what  is  a  basement  without  interest  in  floors  ? 
That  there  is  a  mystery  is  certain,  for  has  he  not 
those  two  damning  provocations  to  suspicion  —  a  pro- 
found reticence  and  an  inner  cupboard  of  which  he 
keeps  the  key  ? 

From  what  Naomi  tells  me  of  what  Mrs.  Wiles 
tells  her,  the  desire  of  the  basement  and  its  particular 
friend,  Miss  Cole  (who  drops  in  pretty  regularly  for  a 
cup  of  tea),  to  find  the  key  of  this  cupboard  left  by 
accident  in  the  lock  amounts  to  a  passion.  If  they 
only  knew  it,  they  are  foolish ;  for  compared  with  a 
closed  cupboard,  all  the  open  cupboards  in  the  world 
are  negligible.  Speculation  is  as  much  superior  to 
certainty  as  anticipation  to  fruition. 

Miss  Cole,  who  is  one  of  London's  spinster  rentiers, 
with  so  little  life  of  her  own  that  other  people's  lives 
take  the  first  place  in  her  thoughts,  and  enough  of  an 
income  to  make  her  envied  by  her  carefully  chosen 
friends  —  chosen,  as  is  too  often  our  way,  because 
they  are  humbler  and  capable  of  envy  —  darkly  hints 


LONDON  LAVENDER  9 

at  crime  itself,  her  simple  line  of  reasoning  being  that 
no  honest  person  has  secrets. 

But  Mrs.  Wiles  has  no  patience  with  such  sugges- 
tions. "A  secret  he  may  have,"  she  says,  "but 
there's  no  harm  in  it,  I'll  be  bound.  But  that  Miss 
Cole  always  thinks  the  worst." 

"Of  course  she  does,  poor  woman,"  I  said.  "How 
would  she  get  on  if  she  didn't?  "  and  was  promptly 
rebuked  by  Naomi  for  my  cynicism. 

But  Mrs.  Wiles,  who  is  an  old  campaigner,  only 
laughed.  "I  believe  you're  right,  sir,"  she  said. 
"We're  a  funny  lot,  aren't  we?" 

And  there,  perhaps,  is  as  true  an  epitaph  as  human 
nature  could  get. 

Mr.  Spanton,  who  has  the  next  room  to  Mr.  Car- 
stairs,  is  a  young  gentleman  who  calls  himself  a 
Socialist.  "But  do  you  think,"  Mrs.  Wiles  asks 
earnestly,  "that  Socialists  ought  to  have  silk  pyjamas  ? 
And  his  toilet  requisites :  like  a  lady's  !  But  quite 
civil  and  pleasant  spoken,  although  rather  too  par- 
ticular about  his  things,  and  sharp  with  you  if 
you  dust  the  pictures  and  leave  them  crooked,  as 
who  that  is  yuman  can  help  doing  ?  " 

The  Misses  Packer  evidently  have  a  very  soft 
place  in  their  hearts  for  Mr.  Spanton.  "Such  a 
fastidious  gentleman,  and  of  the  best  family.  You 
can  tell  that  by  the  places  where  he  gets  his  clothes. 
All  his  hosiery  from  Bond  Street  itself,  and  Miss 
Cole,  who  is  often  in  the  West  End  of  an  afternoon, 
tells  us  that  she  has  seen  the  shop,  and  the  Royal 


io  LONDON  LAVENDER 

arms  are  over  it.  How  such  a  gentleman  can  talk 
about  the  country  as  he  does,  and  take  such  an 
interest  in  the  poor,  is  a  marvel ;  but  Miss  Cole,  who 
has  a  friend  in  the  household  at  Buckingham  Palace 
and  hears  all  kinds  of  things,  says  that  Socialism  is 
quite  a  hobby  with  some  of  the  aristocrats  now. 
And  look  at  Lady  Warwick  !  Such  a  beautiful  place 
as  she  has  —  Warwick  Castle,  where  we  went  once 
with  our  dear  father  in  a  char-a-banc  from  Birming- 
ham, when  we  were  visiting  his  sister  there.  And 
Guy's  Cliff,  too,  you  know.  And  another  day  we 
were  at  Stratford-on-Avon  and  saw  Miss  Corelli's 
house.  Such  lovely  window-boxes ;  and  there,  to 
think  that  Lady  Warwick  should  be  a  Socialist  1" 
"Mr.  Furley,  in  the  first  floor  front,  has  a  funny 
business,"  says  Mrs.  Wiles.  "You'd  never  guess 
what  it  is.  I  gave  Wiles  three  guesses  and  he  didn't 
get  near  it  —  at  least  not  nearer  than  conducting  a 
matrimonial  agency.  He's  a  cinema  gentleman. 
He  makes  picture  plays  for  the  theatres.  Many's 
the  ticket  he's  given  Wiles  and  me  to  see  his  pieces 
free  in  the  Tottenham  Court  Road.  I  love  the 
cinema  plays,  especially  the  sad  ones,  but  Wiles  is 
all  for  the  comics.  It's  funny  we  should  have  a 
cinema  gentleman  here  now,  isn't  it,  because  before 
he  came  his  rooms  were  occupied  by  a  gentleman 
who  wrote  a  real  play  —  I  mean  a  play  for  a  real 
theatre.  He  gave  us  tickets  too.  Isn't  that  a  coinci- 
dence —  two  gentlemen  running  who  were  able  and 
willing  to  give  tickets  ?    I  often  tell  people  of  it  and 


LONDON  LAVENDER  n 

laugh.  It  wasn't  a  bad  play,  either,"  Mrs.  Wiles 
continued,  "  although  there  was  rather  too  much 
talk  in  it  and  it  ended  unhappily.  At  any  rate  it 
didn't  end  with  wedding  bells,  as  I  hold  plays  should." 

When,  however,  I  pointed  out  to  her  that  life  rarely 
ended  there,  but  in  a  manner  of  speaking  only  began 
there  —  her  own  life,  for  example  —  she  was  forced  to 
confess  I  was  right. 

"I  never  thought  of  that  before,"  she  said,  but 
quickly  added,  with  admirable  sagacity,  "Still,  that's 
life,  and  plays  are  plays ;  and  they've  nothing  what- 
ever to  do  with  each  other,  have  they  ? 

"But  the  nicest  gentleman  here,"  she  went  on,  "is 
Mr.  Lacey.  Always  full  of  his  jokes,  and  so  kind. 
Mr.  Furley  is  kind  too,  but  he  doesn't  think.  Mr. 
Lacey's  kindness  is  special  to  yourself,  if  you  know 
what  I  mean.  And  you  should  see  his  rooms — they're 
just  like  a  museum,  and  if  I  dare  to  lift  so  much  as 
a  piece  of  crumpled-up  paper  he's  all  over  me.  The 
things  he  calls  me,  you'd  be  astonished ;  but  so 
different  from  Mr.  Spanton.  Mr.  Spanton  cuts,  but 
Mr.  Lacey  says  them  in  such  a  way  that  I  only 
laugh ;  and  yet  if  a  stranger  that  didn't  know  his 
ways  were  to  hear,  they'd  think  it  awful.  The 
language  !  In  a  Court  of  Law  they'd  nearly  hang 
him  for  it.  But  there,  there's  few  things  we  say  or 
do,  I  often  think,  as  wouldn't  get  the  rope  round  our 
necks  in  a  Court  of  Law  if  the  right  kind  of  barrister 
gentleman  asked  the  questions.  It  makes  me  shiver 
reading  the  cross-examinations." 


12  LONDON  LAVENDER 

How  long  she  would  have  continued,  I  cannot  say, 
had  she  not  been  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  voices 
in  the  street,  which  proceeded  from  a  comedy  storm 
in  which  the  part  of  Boreas  was  played  by  her  hero, 
the  first-floor-back.  For  Mr.  Lacey,  although  nor- 
mally genial  and  out  for  fun,  has  in  reserve  for  injus- 
tice a  hurricane  temper  which  he  keeps  in  some  cave  of 
the  winds  within  his  brain.  It  was  this  that  we  now 
witnessed  in  action  from  our  open  window.  An 
organist,  who  was  English  and  who  had  but  one  leg, 
had  been  playing  for  a  few  minutes  to  a  delighted 
audience  of  children.  The  tune  was  "Every  nice 
girl  loves  a  sailor,"  which  is,  I  believe,  old,  but  as 
sound  in  melody  as  the  sentiment  which  it  conveys 
is  sound  in  fact.  Then  suddenly  a  policeman  had 
arrived  and  waved  the  musician  to  a  less  select 
neighbourhood.  Lacey,  who  appears  to  have  been 
watching  from  the  door  step,  was  in  the  theatre  of 
war  in  a  moment.  From  our  private  box  we  could 
hear  everything. 

"Why  do  you  send  this  man  away?  "  Lacey  had 
evidently  asked. 

The  policeman  said  that  he  had  been  requested  by 
residents  not  to  allow  street  music  thereabouts. 

"When?  "  Mr.  Lacey  inquired. 

"Oh,  at  different  times." 

"Not  this  morning?  " 

"No." 

"Very  well,  then,  give  the  man  his  chance." 

"It  couldn't  be  done,"  said  the  policeman. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  13 

"It  shall  be  done,"  said  Lacey.  "If  anyone  is  to 
be  arrested  let  it  be  me,"  and  he  told  the  organ- 
grinder  to  continue. 

At  this  moment  a  resident  came  out  of  the  opposite 
house,  and,  ignoring  Lacey  entirely,  requested  the 
constable  to  move  the  music  on. 

This  was  meat  and  drink  to  Lacey.  He  turned 
his  back  on  the  organ  and  the  officer  and  settled 
down  to  action  with  the  householder. 

Why,  might  he  ask,  was  the  music  to  be  moved  on  ? 

Because  the  householder  objected  to  it. 

Was  anyone  in  the  house  ill  ? 

No. 

And  what  was  the  householder's  objections? 

Such  things  were  a  nuisance  and  should  not  be 
permitted. 

Had  the  householder  noticed  that  the  man  had 
but  one  leg  ? 

He  had :  but  that  was  the  man's  affair.  It  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  case.  He  might,  on  the 
contrary,  be  a  centipede  for  all  the  householder 
cared.  The  case  merely  was  that  Primrose  Terrace 
was  a  quiet  part,  with  rents  accordingly,  and  one 
expected  with  reason  to  be  exempt  from  organs. 

"Very  well,"  said  Lacey.  "Then  understand  that 
I  too  reside  in  Primrose  Terrace  and  I  like  organs. 
If  a  sufficient  number  of  unimaginative  blockheads 
like  yourself,  who  live  here,  decide  against  organs  you 
can  have  a  notice  prohibiting  them  put  up  at  the  end 
of  the  street,  like  the  other  self-protective  snobs  all 


i4  LONDON   LAVENDER 

over  London.  But  until  you  do,  the  organs  shall 
come  here,  I  promise  you  that.  And  you,  constable," 
he  said,  turning  to  the  policeman,  "understand  that 
I,  a  resident  in  Primrose  Terrace,  wish  to  hear  street 
music." 

"But  I  can't  take  orders  from  private  persons," 
said  the  policeman. 

"Good,"  said  Mr.  Lacey.  "That's  just  what  I 
wanted  you  to  say.  I  shall  now  make  it  my  business 
to  see  your  inspector  and  inform  him  that  you  take 
orders  from  private  persons  for  harrying  the  poor,  but 
refuse  them  for  encouraging  the  poor.  Then  we  shall 
see  where  we  are." 

And,  so  saying,  he  handed  the  organ-grinder  a 
shilling  and  walked  of!  to  the  police  station. 

That  is  Lacey.  Right  or  wrong,  that  is  Lacey. 
But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  fundamentally  he  is  always 
right  —  although  his  idea  of  Tightness  and  Society's 
idea  do  not  agree. 

I  need  hardly  say  that  the  result  of  Lacey's  visit  to 
the  police  station  was  the  speedy  erection  of  a  notice- 
board  forbidding  street  music;  for  he  is  rarely  suc- 
cessful in  his  crusades.  But  the  crusade  is  the  thing : 
not  the  result  of  it. 


CHAPTER   III 

IN  WHICH  A  VISIT  IS  PAID  TO  A  RED-HAIRED 
LADY  AND  CERTAIN  MEMBERS  OF  LONDON'S 
FOREIGN    POPULATION   ARE   ENUMERATED 

ARMED  with  a  message  of  introduction  from 
Mrs.  Wiles,  I  called  on  Mr.  Wiles  at  his  place 
of  business.  He  is  to  be  found  under  the  New  Ape 
House.  You  knock  on  the  closed  door  opposite  the 
King's  Nepal  exhibits,  and  as  you  stand  there  waiting 
for  it  to  be  opened  the  contemptible  monkey  house 
and  the  shameless  prismatic  mandril  are  on  your  left- 
By  and  by  steps  are  heard  on  a  stone  passage  and 
Mr.  Wiles  or  his  mate  opens  the  door. 

"Are  you  Mr.  Wiles  ?  "  I  asked. 

He  said  he  was,  and  I  told  him  that  I  was  Mr. 
Falconer,  and  our  alliance  was  completed.  Some 
friendships  are  made  beforehand,  and  this  was  one 
of  them. 

He  showed  me  his  kitchen,  where  the  food  of  these 
delicate  exotic  creatures  is  prepared,  and  then  he  led 
me  to  the  little  warm  room  where  Barbara  holds  her 
court.  She  herself  opened  the  door  for  us  —  a  young 
clinging  ourang-outang,  red  as  Rufus,  with  quick  sad 
eyes  and  restless  hands  and  arms  that  could  strangle 

*5 


1 6  LONDON  LAVENDER 

eyes,  and  restless  hands;  and  arms  that  could  strangle 
a  bull.  These  arms  she  flung  round  Mr.  Wiles's  neck 
and  he  carried  her  to  the  window. 

"Wouldn't  do  for  the  missis  to  see  too  much  of 
this,"  he  said.  "Women  don't  understand  it.  She's 
a  brick,  my  missis,  but,  bless  your  heart,  she'd  carry 
on  a  treat  if  she  found  me  and  Barbara  like  this. 
The  rum  thing,"  he  went  on,  "is  that  Barbara's  a 
woman  too.  In  fact,  you  can't  be  long  in  these 
Gardens  without  rinding  out  how  much  alike  we  all 
are  —  us  and  them.  As  for  babies,  why,  they  ought  to 
be  here;  and  lots  of  grown-up  people  too.  Makes 
you  think  a  bit,  you  know."  He  lowered  his  voice. 
"It  makes  you  think  too  much,  almost.  What  I  ask 
myself  is  this,  What  is  a  soul  ?  Because,  here's 
Barbara,  here,  hasn't  got  one,  and  I  have ;  and  as  far 
as  I  can  see,  the  only  difference  between  us,  after 
clothes,  is  that  she  can't  talk  and  I  can.  But  know- 
ing !  there's  nothing  she  doesn't  know  and  nothing 
she  doesn't  feel.  She's  as  understanding  as  a  Christian 
and  much  more  affectionate  than  many  of  them. 
What  I  ask  myself  sometimes  is,  Why  is  Barbara  in 
a  cage  and  all  these  people  out  and  about  ?  or,  Why 
aren't  I  in  a  cage  and  Barbara  paying  a  bob  to  see 
me?  It  wants  a  bit  of  thinking.  It  isn't  enough 
just  to  say,  Because  I'm  a  man  and  Barbara's  an 
ourang-outang ;  because,  who  was  it  called  me  a 
man  and  Barbara  an  ourang-outang  ?  Why,  man  did. 
That  is  to  say,  it's  all  going  his  way.  But  what  do  you 
suppose    ourang-outangs    call  us  ?    Ah !     Suppose " 


LONDON  LAVENDER  17 

—  he  lowered  his  voice  to  a  whisper  —  "suppose 
ourang-outangs  call  themselves  men  and  us  apes! 
Wouldn't  that  be  terrible  ?  But  nobody  knows. 
Not  even  Dr.  Chalmers  Mitchell  knows." 

Barbara  meanwhile  sat  absolutely  motionless  save 
that  her  eyes  roved  and  her  great  jaws  worked  a 
little.  It  was  enough  for  her  that  she  was  in  Mr. 
Wiles's  arms  and  he  in  hers. 

"Look  at  her  now,"  Mr.  Wiles  continued;  "she's 
taking  it  all  in.  She  knows  what  I'm  saying.  And 
another  thing.  The  best  in  the  land  come  to  see 
her.  The  King  and  Queen  are  often  here.  Great 
scholars  come,  artists,  authors.  And  they  all  make 
a  fuss  of  her  such  as  they  wouldn't  make  of  any 
human  being  outside  their  own  families,  and  not 
them  often.  That's  odd,  isn't  it?  Makes  you 
think  there's  something  more  in  apes  than  you  bar- 
gained for. 

"The  trouble  is,"  he  went  on,  "they're  so  delicate, 
ourang-outangs,  and  so  are  chimpanzees ;  in  fact,  all  the 
larger  apes.  First  it's  bronchitis  and  then  it's  pneu- 
monia.    I've  had  so  many  pass  through  my  hands 

—  all  dead  now.  Barbara's  doing  fairly  well,  but 
I  dread  the  winter.  I  dare  say  you've  heard  of 
the  famous  performing  chimpanzee  —  Consul  ?  Seen 
him,  perhaps?  It  might  surprise  you  to  know  that 
there  have  been  twenty-six  Consuls  since  he  first 
appeared.  The  public  think  it's  the  original  one, 
but  it's  not.    Twenty-six." 

Whatever  else  I  may  have  to  do  later  in  the  day  I 
manage  to  get  to  the  Zoo  for  a  little  while  every  fine 
c 


1 8  LONDON  LAVENDER 

morning.  Only  thus  can  one  obtain  real  intimacy 
with  any  of  its  inhabitants,  whether  they  have  souls 
or  not.  Only  thus  could  I  have  become  so  close  a 
friend  of  the  wombat,  that  engaging  stupid  Australian 
with  his  broad,  blunt,  good-natured  face.  As  the 
wombat  lives  on  the  north  bank  of  the  turgid  dyke 
called  the  Regent's  Canal,  into  which  apathetic  but 
sanguine  Londoners  drop  bait  all  day  with  never  a 
bite,  and  nursemaids  drop  surreptitious  love-letters 
when  they  have  read  them  a  sufficient  number  of 
times,  it  is  upon  him  that  I  pay  one  of  my  first  calls, 
since  it  is  by  the  Albert  Road  gate  that  I  enter  this 
attractive  sanctuary :  passing  on  my  way  Owls' 
Terrace,  the  solemn  occupants  of  which  are  either 
reflecting  so  sagely  upon  life  (far  more  sagely  than 
anybody  in  Primrose  Terrace)  or  are  merely  pretend- 
ing to,  no  one  will  ever  know  which. 

After  the  wombat  I  visit  the  capuchin  (or  sapajou), 
whose  peculiarity  it  is  to  be  more  like  an  old  man 
seen  through  the  wrong  end  of  a  telescope  than  any 
other  monkey  or  ape  will  ever  be,  although  it  is  the 
chimpanzee  that  has  the  credit  of  coming  nighest  to 
our  perfect  state.  So  it  may,  taken  as  a  whole,  but 
for  human  features,  however  wizened  and  poor,  the 
capuchin  (or  sapajou)  bears  away  the  bell.  Accord- 
ing to  the  Zoo  guide-book,  the  capuchin  (or  sapajou) 
differs  from  man  principally  in  retaining  his  tail  and 
possessing  four  more  grinding  teeth  than  even  those 
of  us  who  are  lucky  to  keep  the  complement  that 
Heaven  allowed  us. 


LONDON   LAVENDER  19 

•  I  then  cross  the  canal  by  the  private  half  of  the 
public  bridge,  where  the  visitor  to  the  Zoo  is  separated 
from  the  common  outsider  by  an  iron  railing  which 
makes  each  look  to  the  other  far  liker  a  wild  beast 
than  is  pleasant  in  this  neighbourhood,  and  so  come 
to  my  gentle  friends,  the  giraffes,  those  pathetic 
survivals  from  the  past  whom  American  ex-presidents 
and  gallant  big-game  hunters  generally  are  so  eager 
to  exterminate.  How  any  thinking  creature  proud 
in  the  possession  of  an  immortal  soul  can  bring  his 
ringer  to  pull  the  trigger  at  such  an  innocent,  beautiful, 
and  liquid-eyed  vegetarian  as  this  I  shall  never  have 
imagination  enough  to  understand;  but  they  do  it 
continually,  and  evidently  have  no  compunctions,  for 
they  are  photographed  afterwards  with  one  foot  on 
the  victim's  corpse. 

And  so  past  the  island  cave  of  the  beaver,  a  creature 
upon  whom  no  visitor's  eye  has  ever  rested,  and 
who,  for  all  the  British  public  knows,  may  not  be 
there  at  all,  to  the  elephants,  one  of  whom  has  been 
nodding  his  head  against  the  bars  and  opening  his 
inadequate  mouth  for  buns  ever  since  1876,  and  will, 
I  dare  say,  continue  to  do  so  for  many  years  yet. 
How  many  buns  he  has  eaten  let  the  statistician 
compute.  I  have  no  doubt  that  if  placed  in  a  line 
touching  each  other  they  would  extend  from  London 
to  Adelaide  in  the  usual  manner. 

After  the  elephant,  who  is  all  deliberate  matter,  I 
visit  the  otter,  who  is  all  nervous  fluid  and  the  merriest 
creature  in  the  gardens,  and  so,  by  way  of  the  magical 
lizards,  come  to  Mr.  Wiles  and  Barbara. 


2o  LONDON  LAVENDER 

That  is  my  short  round.  When  there  is  more  time 
I  extend  it  to  take  in  the  gay  little  foreign  birds  with 
the  pretty  names,  who  live  between  the  lizards  and 
the  bears,  and  who,  with  the  lizards,  seem  to  be 
almost  more  wonderful  achievements  on  the  part  of 
the  Creator  than  the  elephant  or  giraffe.  And  I  like 
also  to  look  once  again  at  the  King  Penguin  and  the 
Snow  Leopards ;  but  the  lions  and  tigers  I  rarely 
visit,  for  I  cannot  bear  the  forlorn  look  in  their  eyes. 
It  hurts  me  to  think  that  it  is  partly  my  subscription 
that  is  keeping  them  here. 

And  coming  out  again  into  the  world  of  men,  it 
seems  strange  and  unbelievable  that  anyone  should 
choose  to  live  anywhere  but  close  to  Regent's  Park. 


CHAPTER  IV 

IN  WHICH  I  AM  FORBIDDEN  TO  BE  IDLE  AND 
THEREFORE  FIND  CONGENIAL  EMPLOY- 
MENT 

NAOMI  was  very  firm  about  my  finding  an 
occupation.  Men  must  do  something,  she 
said.  As  for  herself,  she  intended  to  retain  her 
various  poor  proteges,  and  to  continue  to  visit  her 
mother  in  Queen  Anne's  Gate  every  day,  and  prob- 
ably lunch  there;  which  made  it  the  more  important 
that  I  should  have  something  to  engage  me. 

"A  man  who  has  no  employment  is  like  a  ship 
without  a  rudder,"  she  said. 

I  replied  that  perhaps  it  was  employment  enough 
to  be  married  to  an  epigrammatist.  This  being 
received  without  enthusiasm,  I  pointed  out  that  I 
was  executor  to  no  fewer  than  three  persons. 

"All  of  whom  are  alive  and  extremely  healthy," 
said  Naomi. 

"True,"  I  answered,  "but  think  how  insecure  is 
one's  hold  upon  life.  At  any  moment  one  of  them 
may  be  crushed  by  a  falling  aeroplane  and  plunge 
me  into  affairs." 

"  '  It's  ill  waiting  for  dead  men's  shoes,' "  Naomi 
quoted,  and  at  the  totally  new  light  which  the  prov- 

21 


22  LONDON  LAVENDER 

erb  threw  upon  the  attitude  of  the  ordinary  executor 
I  broke  down. 

"How  do  you  know,"  I  asked,  "that  I  am  not 
writing  a  really  valuable  work  on  the  Zoo  ?  A  philo- 
sophical treatise  on  apes  ?  " 

"You're  not,  are  you?"  she  asked.  Naomi  for  all 
her  shrewdness  has  a  childlike  belief  in  certain  things 
that  she  hears.     A  child  could  pull  her  leg. 

"No,"  I  said ;  "I  am  not.  But  I  had  thoughts  of 
playing  a  little  at  writing.  Wouldn't  that  satisfy 
you?" 

She  did  not  thoroughly  kindle  to  it.  "I  hope  you 
will  write,  dear,"  she  said;  "but  that  is  only  play 
anyway.     And  what  would  you  write  ?  " 

"Well,"  I  said,  "supposing  I  was  to  write  a  book 
about  you?" 

Naomi  was  indignant.  "About  me?  How  could 
I  make  a  book  ?  " 

"Very  well  then,"  I  replied;  "about  us." 

"But  we  are  so  uninteresting,"  she  said.  "We're 
so  ordinary.  Besides,  I  don't  think,  dear,  you  have  — 
have  you?  —  quite  the  novelist's  gifts." 

"Perhaps  not,"  I  said,  "but  you  mustn't  be  a  re- 
viewer before  I've  begun.  Anyway,  mightn't  I  play  a 
little  at  being  a  novelist,  just  for  fun  ?  I  asked  advice 
from  quite  a  good  man  the  other  day  and  he  said: 
'When  in  doubt,  to  describe  your  neighbours  is 
perhaps  the  second-best  piece  of  counsel  that  one  can 
give.'  And  that's  not  so  very  difficult.  Mightn't  I 
try  that  ?  " 


LONDON  LAVENDER  23 

"I'd  love  you  to,"  she  said,  "only  I  want  you  to  do 
something." 

Then  I  made  use  of  a  cowardly  argument:  "When 
one  has  worked  and  then  can  afford  to  retire,  one 
ought  not  to  keep  others  out  of  a  job." 

Naomi,  bless  her,  has  no  patience  with  this  kind  of 
talk.  "If  work  is  good  for  the  soul,"  she  said,  "as  I 
believe,  one  must  work  and  let  the  work  of  others  be 
their  own  affair.  A  pretty  pass  we  should  come  to  if 
the  good  men  abstained  from  work  because  by  so 
doing  they  were  giving  the  loafers  a  better  chance  of 
taking  it  if  they  felt  so  inclined  !  But  I  don't  want 
you  to  make  any  money,"  she  added.  "Something 
honorary  and  useful." 

"Such  as?"  I  asked. 

"We'll  find  it,"  she  said. 

Chance,  as  so  often  happens,  took  the  matter  into 
its  hands  and  settled  it ;  for  an  evening  or  so  later  we 
met  at  a  party  a  gentleman  who  had  given  his  life 
to  the  search  for,  and  reproduction  of,  old  English 
songs  and  dances,  several  of  which  were  rendered  by 
a  troop  of  London  girls  that  he  brought  with  him, 
and  these  melodies  were  so  simple  and  fresh  and 
charming  that,  although  no  musician,  I  was  com- 
pletely captured.  In  conversation  with  him  after- 
wards, we  learned  that  he  was  in  need  of  assistance 
in  forming  and  managing  a  society  for  the  systematic 
encouragement  and  performance  of  these  things, 
and  at  Naomi's  suggestion  I  offered  my  services. 
So  I  am  now  an  honorary  secretary,  one  of    those 


24  LONDON  LAVENDER 

bustling  diplomatic  persons  whom  reporters  always 
describe  as  courteous  and  indefatigable. 

The  duties  connected  with  the  launching  of  this 
Society,  together  with  such  desultory  private  desk- 
work  as  it  amuses  me  to  do,  ought  to  satisfy  anyone. 
They  convince  me  at  any  rate  that  no  one  is  in  such 
danger  of  overwork  as  that  man  of  more  or  less 
amiable  disposition  who  gives  it  out  that  he  has 
retired. 

I  don't  pretend  to  understand  the  full  value  of  folk- 
music  or  to  be  able  to  distinguish  between  the  mixo- 
lydian  and  the  dorian  mode,  and  so  forth ;  but  I  do 
know  this,  that  there  are  no  sweeter  songs  for  young 
voices,  or  merrier  and  more  innocent  measures  for 
young  feet,  and  that  the  more  we  can  catch  of  the 
spirit  of  the  early  days  when  English  music  had 
these  pure  and  happy  characteristics  the  better  for 
all  of  us. 

A  very  little  music  is  ordinarily  enough  for  me; 
and  though  I  do  not  say  that  an  evening  at  the 
Opera,  especially  when  the  Russians  are  dancing,  or 
an  afternoon  at  Queen's  Hall  now  and  then,  is  not 
very  welcome,  I  would  not  too  often  be  found  at 
either.  Sophisticated  self-conscious  music  makes  me 
too  old,  and  the  world  too  old,  and  its  enigmas  too 
difficult,  and  all  that  is  best  too  fugitive.  But  these 
ancient  English  songs  of  an  unthinking  peasantry  do 
not  trouble  the  waters ;   they  make  for  joy. 

It  seems  to  me  that  essential  melody  never  reached 
a  more  exquisite  purity  than  in  " Mowing  the  Barley," 


LONDON  LAVENDER  25 

and  I  often  wonder  what  Society  would  say  if,  without 
any  warning,  when  they  were  all  securely  in  their 
seats  at  the  Opera,  in  their  best  clothes,  and  had 
finished  ascertaining  who  their  immediate  neighbours 
were,  and  who  occupied  the  boxes,  the  curtain  rose, 
not  upon  the  voluptuous  passion  of  La  Boheme,  or 
the  civilized  ache  of  Louise,  or  the  barbaric  excesses 
of  Scheherazade,  but  upon  a  company  of  youths  and 
children  and  maidens  singing  this  lovely  song.  After 
the  first  shock  of  surprise,  anxious  searching  of  in- 
fluential countenances  and  bewildered  references  to 
the  programme,  might  they  not  settle  down  to  the 
profoundest  content?  And  as  song  gave  way  to 
dance,  and  dance  to  song  —  "Blow  away  the  Morning 
Dew"  to  "Laudnum  Bunches,"  and  "Dargason"  to 
"The  Keys  of  Heaven,"  and  "I'm  Seventeen  come 
Sunday"  to  "Lord  Rendal" — might  they  not 
experience  a  feeling  wholly  new  in  that  building  and 
wholly  pleasurable?  For  there  is  nothing  like  a 
plunge  into  the  simple  life  now  and  then. 

And  yet  —  I  don't  know.  It  might  be  dangerous. 
These  songs  are  too  fascinating :  Mayfair  would  be 
decimated.  There  is  one  of  them  so  infectious  in  its 
melody,  so  irresistible  in  its  appeal,  that  it  should  be 
rigidly  excluded  from  the  programme.  The  Italian's 
La  Boheme,  which  sets  so  many  of  our  stately  dames 
in  a  quiver,  is  quite  safe  compared  with  this  concise 
English  treatment  of  the  same  theme.  For  "The 
Wraggle  Taggle  Gipsies"  has  the  very  seeds  of  revolt 
and  escape  in  it.     Here  is  the  first  verse : 


26 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


Then  she  pulled  off  her  silk  finished  gown 
And  put  on  hose  of  leather,  O  ! 
The  ragged,  ragged  rags  about  our  door  — 
She's  gone  with  the  wraggle  taggle  gipsies,  O. 

It  was  late  last  night,  when  my  lord  came  home, 

Inquiring  for  his  a-lady,  O! 

The  servants  said,  on  every  hand: 

"  She's  gone  with  the  wraggle  taggle  gipsies,  0." 

There's  a  new  version  of  La  Boheme  for  you,  and  no 
less  provocative !    I  do  not  hear  Caruso  in  it ;    but 
Caruso  is  not  all. 
His  lordship  at  last  overtakes  the  rebel : 

"  What  makes  you  leave  your  house  and  land  ? 
What  makes  you  leave  your  money,  O  ? 
What  makes  you  leave  your  new  wedded  lord, 
To  go  with  the  wraggle  taggle  gipsies,  O  ?  " 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


27 


And  what  says  she  ?    She  has  heard  the  call  of  the  road : 

"  What  care  I  for  my  house  and  my  land? 
What  care  I  for  my  money,  O  ? 
What  care  I  for  my  new  wedded  lord  ? 
I'm  off  with  the  wraggle  taggle  gipsies,  O." 

For  the  most  part,  however,  these  old  English  songs 
which  we  want  to  see  popularized  are  less  intoxicating. 
Their  tunes  are  not  those  of  the  pied  piper  who  would 
upset  the  family,  but  more  serene  and  sweet,  like  the 
music  of  birds  by  a  running  stream.  And  the  words 
are  emotion  remembered  in  tranquillity.  This  ex- 
quisite "Mowing  the  Barley,"  for  example,  is  as 
artless  a  love-ballad  as  ever  was  written,  in  which  the 
least  romantic  character  in  English  life  is  transfigured 
into  a  hero.  A  lawyer,  in  short.  I  wonder  that  in 
the  Temple  they  ever  sing  anything  else,  so  proud 
should  this  ditty  make  them.     It  begins : 


28 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


Rhymes,  you  see,  don't  matter  much  in  our  kind  of 
song.  We  hate  pedantry;  and  we  hate  everything 
that  sets  up  the  slightest  obstacle  between  the  singer 
and  the  listener. 

The  lawyer  said  no  more  that  day,  but  the  next 
he  rode  forth  again,  and  though  at  first  she  gave  him 
the  slip  (for  she  thought  him  like  all  lawyers,  true  to 
type)  he 

Caught  her  round  the  middle  so  small, 
And  on  his  horse  he  placed  her. 

The  legal  courting  then  began 

"  Hold  up  your  cheeks,  my  fair  pretty  maid, 

Hold  up  your  cheeks,  my  honey, 
That  I  may  give  you  a  fair  pretty  kiss, 

And  a  handful  of  golden  money." 


LONDON  LAVENDER  29 

The  fair  pretty  maid  at  first  refused,  for  she  sus- 
pected the  honesty  of  his  intentions;  but  after  he 
had  talked  a  little  more,  and  more  ardently, 

She  quite  forgot  the  barley  field, 
And  left  her  father  a-mowing. 

And  now  —  the  end  is  perfect  — 

And  now  she  is  the  Lawyer's  wife, 
And  dearly  the  Lawyer  loves  her ; 
They  live  in  a  happy  content  of  life, 
And  well  in  the  station  above  her. 

No  one  who  has  ever  heard  a  company  of  fresh 
young  voices  lilting  out  this  beautiful  piece  of  rural 
idealism  —  for  I  take  it  that  it  is  no  small  thing  for 
a  country  girl  to  catch  a  lawyer,  that  terrible  person 
who  knows  everyone's  business  and  arranges  for 
distraints  and  evictions  as  well  as  the  making  of  wills 
and  the  lending  of  money  —  has  ever  known  music 
at  its  very  spring. 

Such  is  "Mowing  the  Barley,"  which  I  always  think 
our  best  song,  but  there  is  not  one  of  the  many  hun- 
dreds which  our  indefatigable  Director  has  collected 
and  scored  that  has  not  a  certain  charm.  And  you 
can  understand  that  I  am  proud  to  be  able  to  help 
him  in  his  organized  effort  to  find  still  more,  with 
new  dances  too,  wherever  they  are  still  remembered, 
and  to  get  enthusiasts  to  sing  and  dance  them. 


I 


CHAPTER  V 

IN   WHICH   WE   FIND   LOVERS   OF   TWO   KINDS 
AND    MEET   WITH   A   POIGNANT  INVENTION 

"  \  T  7HAT  we  want,"  the  Director  said,  "in  par- 
VV  ticular,  is  young  men  and  young  women 
to  be  enthusiastic  about  these  songs  and  dances  and 
get  them  spread  about;"  and  lunching  with  Naomi 
at  her  father's,  and  finding  there  Dollie  Heathcote 
and  with  him  the  young  woman  to  whom,  after  various 
flirtations  with  others,  he  has  become  engaged,  I 
endeavoured  to  kindle  them.  But  to  little  purpose. 
Dollie,  like  all  young  men  with  good  education  and 
no  particular  bent,  is  just  now,  having  given  up  his 
mild  liaison  with  the  law,  thinking  of  selling  motor- 
cars, and  to  such  a  character  folk-song  and  dance 
has  no  more  attraction  than  a  nut-food  luncheon  to 
a  company  promoter.  His  line  of  music  is  that 
purveyed  at  the  Gaiety  and  the  Halls;  and  all  he 
would  say  in  commendation  of  our  simple  pleasures 
was  that  if  we  could  do  anything  half  as  good  as 
"In  the  Shadows"  we  might  count  on  him  to  whistle 
it.  His  fiancee,  a  Miss  Ann  Ingleside,  was  hardly 
more  promising  as  regards  the  songs,  but  was  quite 

30 


LONDON  LAVENDER  3! 

willing  to  come  to  one  of  the  dance  classes  and  see 
if  it  was  good  enough  fun  to  go  on  with;  and  that 
is  something  gained. 

Why  these  young  people  should  be  engaged  is  not 
patent  to  the  ordinary  observer,  for  each  seems  to  be 
an  adept  at  independence,  and  they  give  no  signs  of 
tenderness  or  even  affection.  But  among  the  leisured 
classes  the  devout  lover  has  gone  out.  They  were 
talking  at  lunch  about  the  afternoon's  plans.  Dollie 
was  for  a  matinee;  Ann  for  a  hockey  final  at  Rich- 
mond. They  were  selfish  enough  to  refuse  each 
to  give  way  to  the  other,  but  not  sufficiently  detached 
to  wish  to  be  alone.  Such  conflicts  naturally  end  in 
victory  for  the  stronger,  since  there  is  no  spontaneous 
giving  way,  and  of  course  that  was  Ann.  So  Heath- 
cote  had  to  forego  his  matinee.  Personally  I  think 
I  would  like  to  see  some  colourable  imitation  of 
turtle-doving  come  in  again.  It  was  very  silly,  no 
doubt,  for  young  couples  to  be  so  publicly  fond,  and 
yet  it  was  rather  pretty  too ;  whereas  the  new  os- 
tentation of  cool  self-sufficiency  can  be  almost  ugly.  . 

Yet  there  are  still  the  profounder  tendernesses. 
Let  me  tell  you  a  story: 

The  man  had  become  very  ill  —  could  hardly  move 
from  where  he  lay ;  and  she,  who  loved  him,  and  was 
to  have  married  him,  and  spent  all  her  waking  hours 
in  thinking  what  she  could  do  for  him,  persuaded 
him  to  have  a  telephone  installed  and  brought  to 
his  bedside  so  that  he  and  she  could  talk,  and  he 
could  talk  with  others,  too.   Every  night  he  rang  her  up 


32  LONDON  LAVENDER 

and  they  had  a  long  conversation;  many  times  in  the 
day  also.  Nothing,  as  it  happened,  could  have  saved 
his  life,  but  this  modern  device  lightened  his  last  weeks. 

His  death,  although  it  blasted  her  hopes,  made  no 
difference  to  her  devotion.  She  merely  installed  his 
memory  in  the  place  of  his  rich  personality  and  loved 
that.  He,  almost  more  than  ever,  was  her  standard. 
What  he  would  have  liked,  she  did ;  what  he  would 
have  disliked,  she  left  undone.  Although  dead,  he 
swayed  her  utterly ;  and  under  his  dominion  she  was 
equable  and  gentle,  although  broken  at  heart.  She 
took  all  things  as  they  came,  since  how  could  anything 
matter  now  that  everything  that  mattered  was  over  ? 

One  perplexity  only  had  power  to  trouble  her,  and 
that  was  the  wonder,  the  amazement,  the  horror,  not 
only  that  so  much  knowledge  and  kindliness  and 
sympathy  and  all  that  made  for  the  world's  good  and 
happiness  should  be  so  wantonly  extinguished ;  but 
that  no  touch  of  the  vanished  hand  should  be  per- 
mitted to  the  one  soul  (now  left  behind)  with  whom  his 
soul  had  been  fused.  This  she  could  neither  under- 
stand nor  forgive.  Religious  she  had  never  been  in 
the  ordinary  sense,  although  such  religion  as  must 
sway  a  true  idealistic  lover  was  hers;  but  now  she 
broke  even  from  such  slender  ties  as  had  held  her  to 
orthodoxy.  She  threw  off  the  creed  of  her  parents 
as  naturally  and  simply  as  if  it  were  a  borrowed  gar- 
ment, and  sank  into  her  sorrow,  which  was  also  her 
solace,  without  another  thought  of   here  or  hereafter. 

So  it  went  on  for  a  year  or  so,  during  which  time 


LONDON  LAVENDER  33 

his  house  had  remained  empty,  save  for  a  caretaker  — 
for  she  (who  was  rich)  could  not  bear  that  anyone 
else  should  live  there  —  and  his  room  exactly  as  he 
had  died  in  it. 

One  evening  she  dined  out.  Her  next  neighbour 
on  one  side  was  a  young  American  engineer,  and  in 
their  conversation  they  came  in  time  to  the  topic  of 
invention  and  the  curious  aptitude  for  inventiveness 
shown  by  the  American  race.  It  was  a  case,  said  the 
engineer,  of  supply  following  demand :  all  Americans 
required  time-and-labour-saving  appliances,  and  they 
obtained  them.  Where  servants  abounded  and  there 
was  no  servant  problem,  as  in  England  and  on  the 
Continent,  the  need  for  such  contrivances  was  not 
acute.  And  so  on.  The  conversation  thus  begun 
reached  at  last  specific  inventions,  and  the  engineer 
told  of  a  remarkable  one  which  had  come  under  his 
notice  just  before  he  left  New  York. 

"You  will  probably  not  believe  me,"  he  said ;  "the 
thing  sounds  incredible;  but  then  who  would  have 
believed  once  that  there  could  be  a  telegraph,  and 
still  less  a  telephone  ?  Who  would  have  believed 
that  the  camera  would  ever  be  anything  but  a  dream  ? 
I  will  tell  you  what  this  is.  It  is  a  machine  in  which 
you  insert  a  portion,  no  matter  how  small,  of  a  tele- 
phone wire,  and  by  turning  a  handle  you  compel  this 
piece  of  wire  to  give  back  every  message  that  has 
ever  passed  over  it." 

She  held  her  heart.  "This  really  exists?"  she 
forced  herself  to  ask. 


34  LONDON  LAVENDER 

"Actually,"  said  the  engineer.  "But  when  I  left 
home  the  inventor  was  in  a  difficulty.  All  the 
messages  were  coming  out  all  right,  but  backwards. 
Naturally  the  reproduction  would  be  from  the  most 
recent  to  the  less  recent.  By  writing  down  the  words 
and  then  reversing  them  the  investigator  could  of 
course  get  at  what  he  was  wanting  —  I  may  say  that 
the  invention  is  for  the  New  York  police  —  but  my 
friend  is  convinced  that  he  can  devise  some  mechani- 
cal system  of  reversing  at  the  time  which  will  make 
the  messages  read  forward  as  they  should.  Just  think 
of  the  excitement  of  the  detective,  listening  through 
all  the  voices  and  ordinary  conversations  on  the  wire 
for  the  one  voice  and  the  one  sentence  that  will  give 
him  his  long-desired  clue  !  —  But  are  you  ill  ?  " 

"No,  no,"  she  said,  although  her  face  was  a  ghastly 
white,  "no;  it  is  nothing.  The  room  is  a  little  hot. 
Tell  me  some  more  about  your  inventive  friend.  Is 
he  wealthy?" 

"Indeed,  no,"  said  the  engineer.  "That  is  his 
trouble.  If  he  had  more  money,  or  ii  he  had  some 
rich  backers  who  believed  in  him,  he  might  do  won- 
ders." 

"I  should  like  to  help  him,"  she  said.  "This  kind 
of  work  interests  me.  Could  you  not  cable  him  to 
come  over  and  bring  the  thing  with  him  ?  I  would 
gladly  finance  him.  I  want  some  sporting  outlet  like 
that  for  my  money." 

"Cable?" 

"Yes,  cable.    There  are  things  that  one  does  by 


LONDON  LAVENDER  35 

impulse  or  not  at  all.     The  butler  here  will  get  you  a 
form." 

It  was  a  few  weeks  later  that  she  went  to  the  empty 
house  with  an  employee  of  the  telephone  company, 
and  they  extracted  a  foot  of  the  precious  wire.  That 
night  she  held  it  in  her  trembling  fingers  and  placed 
it  in  the  machine.  Then  she  carefully  locked  the 
door  and  drew  the  heavy  curtain  over  it  and  carried 
the  machine  to  the  farthest  corner  of  the  room. 
There,  with  a  sigh  of  relief  and  tense  and  almost 
terrible  anticipation,  she  sat  down  and  placed  her  ear 
to  the  receiver  and  began  to  turn  the  handle. 

His  voice  sounded  at  once :  "Are  you  there? ':  It 
was  quite  clear,  so  clear  and  unmistakable  and  actual 
that  her  hand  paused  on  the  handle  and  she  bowed 
her  throbbing  head.  She  turned  on.  "Are  you 
there?"  the  familiar  tones  repeated.  And  then 
the  reply,  "Yes,  who  is  it?"  in  a  woman's  voice. 
Then  he  spoke  again.  "Ernest,"  he  said.  "Is  it 
Helen?"  Again  her  hand  paused.  Helen  —  that 
rubbishy  little  woman  he  had  known  all  his  life  and 
was  on  such  good  terms  with.  She  remembered  now 
that  she  had  been  away  when  the  telephone  was 
installed  and  others  had  talked  on  it  before  her.  It 
could  not  be  helped :  she  had  meant  to  be  the  first,  but 
circumstances  prevented.  There  must  be  many  con- 
versations before  she  came  to  her  own ;  she  would  have 
to  listen  to  them  all.  She  turned  on,  and  the  laugh- 
ing, chaffing  conversation  with  this  foolish  little  Helen 
person  repeated  itself  out  of  the  past  now  so  tragic. 


36  LONDON  LAVENDER 

To  other  talks  with  other  friends,  and  now  and 
then  with  a  tradesman,  she  had  to  listen ;  but  at  last 
came  her  own. 

"Is  that  you?"  she  heard  her  own  voice  saying, 
knowing  it  was  her  own  rather  by  instinct  than  by 
hearing.  "Is  that  you?  But  I  know  it  is.  How 
distinctly  you  speak  !  " 

"Yes,  it's  me"  —  and  his  soft  vibrant  laugh. 

"How  are  you,  dear  ?  " 

"  Better,  I  hope." 

"Have  you  missed  me  ?  " 

"Missed  you!" 

And  then  the  endearments,  the  confidences,  the 
hopes  and  fears,  the  plans  for  the  morrow,  the  plans 
for  all  life.  As  she  listened  the  tears  ran  down  her 
face,  but  still  she  turned  on  and  on.  Sometimes  he 
was  so  hopeful  and  bright,  and  again  so  despairing. 

She  remembered  the  occasion  of  every  word. 
Once  she  had  dined  out  and  had  gone  to  the  theatre. 
It  was  an  engagement  she  could  not  well  refuse.  It 
was  an  amusing  play  and  she  was  in  good  spirits. 
She  rang  him  up  between  the  acts  and  found  him 
depressed.  Hurrying  home,  she  had  settled  down  to 
talk  to  him  at  her  ease.  How  it  all  came  back  to 
her  now. 

"Are  you  there,  my  dearest?  " 

"Yes,  but  oh,  so  tired,  so  old  !  " 

"It  is  a  bad  day.  Everyone  has  been  complain- 
ing of  tiredness  to-day." 

"You  say  that  because  you  are  kind.    Just  to 


LONDON  LAVENDER  37 

comfort  me.  It's  no  use.  I  can  see  so  clearly  some- 
times, I  shall  never  get  well  —  to-night  I  know  it." 

"My  darling,  no." 

And  then  silence  —  complete,  terrifying. 

She  had  rung  up  without  effect.  He  had  fainted, 
she  thought,  and  had  dropped  the  receiver.  She  was 
in  a  fever  of  agony.  She  leaped  into  a  cab  and 
drove  to  his  house.  The  nurse  reassured  her;  he 
had  begun  to  sob  and  did  not  want  her  to  know  it, 
and  now  he  was  asleep. 

But  there  was  no  sleep  for  her  that  night.  What 
if  he  were  right  — ■  if  he  really  knew  ?  In  her  heart 
she  feared  that  he  did;  with  the  rest  of  her  she 
fought  that  fear. 

As  she  listened,  the  tears  ran  down  her  face,  but 
still  she  turned  on  and  on.  She  sat  there  for  hours 
before  the  last  words  came,  the  last  he  was  ever  to 
speak  over  the  wire. 

It  was  to  make  an  appointment.  He  had  rallied 
wonderfully  at  the  end  and  was  confident  of  recovery. 
She  was  to  bring  her  modiste  to  his  room  at  eleven 
o'clock  the  next  morning  with  her  patterns,  that  he 
might  help  in  choosing  her  new  dress.  He  had  insisted 
on  it  —  the  dress  she  was  to  wear  on  his  first  outing. 

"At  eleven,"  he  had  said.  "Mind  you  don't  forget. 
But  then  you  never  forget  anything.  Good  night 
once  more,  my  sweet." 

"Goodnight." 

She  had  never  seen  him  again  alive.  He  died 
before  the  morning. 


38  LONDON  LAVENDER 

She  put  the  machine  away  and  looked  out  of  the 
window.  The  sun  had  risen.  The  sky  was  on  fire 
with  the  promise  of  a  beautiful  day.  Worn  out,  she 
fell  asleep ;  to  wake  —  to  what  ?  To  such  awakening 
as  there  is  for  those  who  never  forget  anything. 

Every  night  found  her  bending  over  the  machine. 
She  had  learned  now  when  not  to  listen.  She  had 
timed  the  reproduction  absolutely,  and,  watch  in  hand, 
she  waited  until  the  other  messages  were  done,  and  her 
own  voice  began.  There  was  no  condensing  possible ; 
one  must  either  each  time  have  every  conversation 
or  stop  it.     But  how  could  she  stop  it  before  the  end  ? 

Locking  the  door  and  drawing  the  heavy  curtain, 
she  would  sit  down  in  the  far  corner  and  begin  to 
turn.  She  knew  just  how  fast  to  turn  for  others; 
so  slowly  for  herself.  When  the  watch  gave  her  the 
signal  she  would  begin  to  listen. 

"Is  that  you?  Is  that  you?  But  I  know  it  is. 
How  distinctly  you  speak  !  " 

"Yes,  it's  me  "  —  and  the  soft  vibrant  laugh. 

"How  are  you,  dear?  " 

"Better,  I  hope." 

"Have  you  missed  me?" 

"Missed  you!" 


CHAPTER  VI 

IN  WHICH  WE  MEET  THE  FIRST-FLOOR-BACK 
AND  FIND  THAT  THE  MILK  OF  HUMAN  KIND- 
NESS   STILL   RUNS 

SO  far  I  agree  with  Mrs.  Wiles  in  thinking  Mr. 
Lacey  the  pick  of  the  house ;  but  my  opinion  is 
of  less  weight  than  it  might  be  since  I  have  not  yet 
met  the  others,  except  in  the  most  casual  way,  at  the 
front  door,  when  we  say  how  fine  it  is  or  how  exceed- 
ingly probable  is  rain,  and  so  part.  But  no  London 
house  of  apartments  could  possibly  shelter  two  men 
as  attractive  as  Mr.  Lacey. 

We  came  into  knowledge  of  each  other  by  the 
merest  chance.  I  was  returning  very  late  at  night, 
and  found,  seated  on  the  top  step  fondling  a  cat,  the 
first-floor-back.  I  knew  him  by  sight,  of  course, 
owing  to  the  organ-grinder  scena,  but  we  had  not 
spoken. 

"I'm  glad  you've  come,"  he  said;  "I've  been  here 
for  nearly  an  hour,  and  the  bell's  broken  and  I've  left 
my  latch-key  somewhere.  I  was  banking  on  the 
chance  of  one  of  the  others  coming  in  late." 

I  let  him  in  and  he  bade  farewell  to  his  companion. 
"Poor  thing,"  he  said,  "  she's  so  miserable.  She's  just 
going  to  have  kittens.     It's  a  hard  world  for  women." 

39 


40  LONDON  LAVENDER 

Since  then  we  have  walked  into  London  together 
now  and  then,  and  I  have  taken  him  to  the  Zoo  on 
Sundays.  He  is  at  his  best  there.  He  seems  to  love 
and  understand  all  animals,  and  he  knows  a  good 
deal  about  them.  In  fact,  it  was  he  who  introduced 
me  to  the  giant  toad  who  eats  worms  behind  the 
scenes  at  the  Reptile  House.  No  one  who  has  not 
seen  this  miracle  of  dining  would  believe  either  in 
the  length  or  quickness  of  the  toad's  tongue. 

Lacey  is  a  little  spare  man,  very  active  and  rest- 
less, with  a  clean-cut  aquiline  nose,  sensitive  mouth, 
alert  grey  eyes,  and  a  brow  which  extends  to  the 
back  of  his  head.  His  hands  are  delicate  and  strong 
and  always  perfectly  kept,  although  his  clothes  can 
be  rather  shabby.  His  nose  and  his  name,  Nathan, 
combined,  have  led  people  to  suppose  him  a  Jew; 
but  he  has  no  Jewish  blood. 

"Why  my  father  gave  me  such  a  name  beats  me," 
he  says,  "and  why  I  never  had  enough  pluck  to 
change  it  beats  me  even  more.  But  he  was  a  good 
old  soul  and  he  chose  it  deliberately ;  and  I  have  gone 
back  on  him  sufficiently  as  it  is.  But  what  chance 
has  a  Christian  called  Nathan  ?  He  is  doubly  handi- 
capped, for  everyone  thinks  him  a  Jew  and  acts 
accordingly,  and  not  being  a  Jew  he  cannot  profit 
or  retaliate.  If  I  had  been  a  Jew  I  should  be  a 
millionaire  to-day.  The  chances  I've  had  !  But  it 
is  my  destiny  to  be  unable  to  carry  through  any 
speculation.  I  acquire  at  top  prices  and  sell  at 
bottom  :  that's  me.     Or  else  I  get  bored  with  bargain- 


LONDON  LAVENDER  41 

ing  and  give  the  infernal  thing  away.  I  have  the 
wish,  but  not  the  instinct  —  that's  the  trouble.  I 
make  the  most  pathetic  efforts  to  be  cunning,  but  it's 
all  no  good." 

Without  such  talk  his  face  tells  me  that  the  world 
has  dealt  him  some  hard  blows ;  but  he  has  never 
given  in.  He  has  the  finest  of  all  breastplates  — 
enthusiasm;  and  to  this  he  adds  that  other  trusty 
buckler  against  the  arrows  of  fate,  a  short  memory. 
I  mean  a  short  memory  for  his  own  troubles :  it  is 
long  enough  if  he  promises  to  do  anything  for  you. 
The  rapidity  of  his  mental  recovery  is  amazing.  If 
he  were  sentenced  to  death  and  on  his  way  to  the 
Tyburn  gallows  from  Newgate,  he  would  see,  long 
before  the  cart  reached  Chancery  Lane,  something  in 
the  streets  so  interesting  that  all  recollection  of  the 
rope  would  be  effaced. 

Lacey  is  more  intelligent  and  sympathetic  than 
most  persons,  but  the  trait  which  distinguishes  him 
chiefly  from  the  mass  of  his  fellows  is  his  impulsive, 
generous  helpfulness  and  his  desire  that  you  should 
share  in  any  good  secret.  He  simply  cannot  leave 
any  house  or  any  acquaintance  quite  as  he  finds  them. 
He  had  not  been  in  our  sitting-room  for  five  minutes 
the  first  time  I  invited  him  in,  before  he  had  noticed 
that  we  wanted  new  candle-shades.  "You've  got  the 
wrong  kind  of  holder  too,"  he  said.  "You  should  get 
those  heavy  ones  that  slip  down  automatically  as  the 
candle  burns.  Give''  me  a  piece  of  paper  and  I'll 
let  you   have  the   address.     And  here's   the  address 


42  LONDON  LAVENDER 

of   a  little  woman  who  makes    the   most   exquisite 
shades." 

It  is  characteristic  of  Lacey  that  he  knows  so 
many  little  women  who  want  a  helping  hand.  Al- 
ways little  women  or  devilish  unlucky  women.  In 
fact,  he  is  the  best  friend  the  unlucky  ever  had: 
they  gravitate  to  him  as  by  a  natural  law. 

He  is  the  frankest  man  I  ever  met  and  certainly 
one  of  the  most  engaging.  He  has  no  reticences  at 
all.  His  character  is  public  property.  And  this 
without  any  swagger  of  disclosure,  but  naturally  and 
simply.  He  says  all  that  he  feels  and  thinks  at  the 
same  moment  that  he  feels  and  thinks  it:  in  fact, 
speech  is  a  part  of  the  feeling  and  the  thought.  With- 
out this  articulation  both  would  be  incomplete. 
But  although  so  frank  currently,  he  does  not  refer 
much  to  his  past.  His  present  occupation  is  secretary 
to  one  of  the  London  Art  clubs,  and  during  their 
exhibitions  he  sits  at  a  table  and  arranges  for  the 
sale  of  the  few  pictures  which  attract  the  few  persons 
who  can  find  money  for  such  luxuries  after  having 
paid  their  chauffeur's  bills.  He  always  has  a  scheme 
for  adding  to  his  income.  One  day  he  has  bought 
for  a  few  shillings  a  grimy  oil-painting  which  when 
cleaned  and  restored  will  fetch  thousands.  This 
morning  he  was  all  on  fire  to  open  a  restaurant  in 
a  novel  place,  somewhere  off  Fleet  Street  or  in  the 
city  itself.  The  novelty  consists  in  limiting  the 
food  provided  strictly  to  chops,  hot,  with  hot  buttered 
toast,  and  chops,  cold,  with  salad.    Nothing  else  at  all, 


LONDON  LAVENDER  43 

except  drink.  I  don't  see  why  the  place  should  fail ; 
but  I  feel  sure  that  if  it  is  started  and  made  profit- 
able Lacey  will  not  be  the  chief  receiver  of  the  profits. 

"You  see,"  he  says,  "my  difficulty.  I  can't  run  a 
restaurant.  I  should  hate  it  too  much.  What  I 
want  —  what  men  like  me  want  —  is  a  decent  financier 
to  pay  us  for  our  ideas  and  for  assisting  in  making 
them  practicable,  and  then  to  let  us  go.  But  the 
worst  of  it  is,  that  few  things  succeed  unless  the  man 
who  invented  them  goes  through  with  it.  But  how 
could  I?  There's  not  only  the  horror  of  spending 
beautiful  days  among  chops  hot  and  chops  cold,  but 
I  should  pay  everyone  too  much." 

"How  did  you  come  to  think  of  it?"  I  asked. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  thought  of  it  yesterday.  I  let 
my  chop  get  cold  owing  to  all  kinds  of  distractions, 
and  then  found  it  delicious.  'This  is  the  food  for 
busy  men,'  I  said,  and  in  the  late  afternoon  I  walked 
down  Fleet  Street  and  looked  for  a  suitable  site. 
That's  where  I  stopped.  A  really  capable  man  would 
have  found  the  site  and  arranged  for  the  restaurant. 
But  my  fate,"  he  said,  "is  to  make  money  for  other 
people;  never  for  myself.  I  have  never  touched 
a  scheme  that  did  not  fail,  and  I  have  never  given 
anyone  else  a  piece  of  financial  advice  that  was 
not  successful.  All  the  horses  I  ever  backed  have 
fallen  dead  at  the  starting  gate.  That's  my  luck. 
But  otherwise  —  except  for  money  —  I  don't  think 
I'm  so  unlucky.  For  one  thing  I  can  always  sleep, 
and  I'm  never  ill." 


44  LONDON  LAVENDER 

Lacey  always  has  little  odds  and  ends  of  informa- 
tion such  as  no  one  else  can  supply.  The  other  day, 
for  example,  he  had  heard  what  muffin  and  crumpet 
men  do  in  the  summer.  I  don't  say  all  of  them,  but 
one  at  any  rate.     He  sews  chenille  spots  on  ladies' 

veils. 

Lacey  also  collects  strange  names  and  words,  and 
just  now  is  in  transports  of  delight  over  a  country 
cobbler's  bill  which  included  a  charge  of  fourpence 
for  "  unsqueakening  "  a  pair  of  boots. 

Naomi  likes  him  no  less  than  I  do;  and  since 
husbands  and  wives,  I  have  noticed,  do  not  always 
agree  about  friends,  this  is  most  satisfactory.  He 
likes  her,  too,  and  brings  her  little  offerings  which  I 
feel  sure  he  can  ill  afford.  "You  shouldn't  buy  all 
these  things,"  Naomi  says  ;  to  which  he  replies,  "  Buy! 
I  never  buy  anything.  Now  and  then  I  pick  up  some- 
thing ;  but  I  never  pay  anything  for  it." 

Last  night,  for  example,  he  brought  her  a  sampler 
for  her  collection  —  a  peculiarly  amusing  one,  made 
by  Katherine  Vallance,  who  finished  it  on  the  5th  of 
August  1783. 

"It  never  ought  to  be  given  to  you,"  said  Mr. 
Lacey,  "since  it  was  obviously  made  for  a  plain 
woman ;  but  I'm  sure  you'll  like  it." 

The  verse  runs  thus : 

What  is  the  blooming  tincture  of  the  skin 
To  peace  of  mind  and  harmony  within  ? 
What  the  bright  sparkling  of  the  finest  eye 
To  the  soft  soothing  of  a  calm  reply  ? 


LONDON  LAVENDER  45 

Can  comeliness  of  form,  of  shape,  of  air, 
With  comeliness  of  words  or  deeds  compare  ? 
No,  those  at  first  th'  unwary  heart  may  gain, 
But  these,  these  only,  can  the  heart  retain  ! 

One  wonders  how  the  little  Katherine  came  to  set 
about  embroidering  those  sentiments.  But  perhaps 
it  was  not  a  little  Katherine  at  all,  but  a  maturer 
one  who  had  been  jilted  for  a  prettier  face,  and  this 
was  at  once  her  consolation  and  revenge. 

Naomi's  samplers  offer  a  complete  scheme  of  placid 
rectitude.  Whether  it  was  really  easier  to  be  good 
a  hundred  and  more  years  ago  than  now  one  cannot 
know;  but  the  testimony  of  the  woolwork  of  the 
time  makes  virtue  almost  automatic.  Thus,  one  of 
Naomi's  samplers  (the  work  of  Lydia  Vickers,  aged 
ten)  begins  with  this  inquiry : 

How  shall  the  young  preserve  their  ways  from  all  pollution 
free? 

That  was  the  question.     The  answer  comes  promptly : 

By  making  still  their  course  of  life  with  Thy  commands  agree. 

Nothing  could  be  simpler;  except  perhaps  the  in- 
structions of  the  dying  Sir  Walter  Scott  to  his  son- 
in-law  and  biographer:  "My  dear,  be  a  good  man; 
be  virtuous ;  be  religious.  Nothing  else  will  give 
you  any  comfort  when  you  come  to  he  here."  Those 
surely  were  less  complex  times.  To-day  —  well,  my 
Utopia,  if  ever  I  framed  one,  would  be  a  land  where 
the  laws  demanded   that  people  should  be  vicious. 


46  LONDON  LAVENDER 

Then  one  would  be  able  to  count  at  any  rate  on  a 
little  virtue.  If  no  man  might  live  with  a  woman  in 
any  but  an  irregular  union,  there  would  be  at  once 
quite  a  run  on  honest  matrimony  and  the  Law 
Courts  would  be  full  of  desperately  wicked  monoga- 
mists; while  if  everyone  was  expected  to  steal  and 
swindle,  there  would  soon  be  an  extensive  criminal 
class  who  respected  property. 


CHAPTER  VII 

IN  WHICH  MR.  DABNEY  WARMS  HIS  HOUSE 
WITH  A  DISCUSSION  AND  I  AM  GLAD  TO 
GET   HOME 

MR.  DABNEY  of  The  Balance  having  asked  me 
to  his  housewarming,  I  found  myself  in  his 
new  rooms  at  about  half-past  nine,  prepared  for  an 
unwonted  night  of  it.  He  pretends  that  after  my 
departure  for  the  altar  a  period  of  decadence  set  in 
over  Bemerton's  and  he  had  at  last  to  leave.  All 
inhabitants  of  rooms  know  these  fluctuations.  Every- 
thing will  go  smoothly  for  years  and  then  suddenly 
comes  a  relaxation  of  energy  on  the  part  of  the  staff. 
It  will  come  chez  Packer  without  a  doubt;  but  not 
just  yet. 

Dabney  has  moved  from  Westminster  to  the 
Temple,  where  a  gentleman  ought  to  live  —  to  a  noble 
suite  in  King's  Bench  Walk  with  a  sidelong  view  of 
the  river  across  the  grass,  on  which  in  the  cool  of 
the  evening  the  agile  barristers  disport  themselves  at 
lawn-tennis.  He  looks  towards  Lambeth  and  has  a 
blessed  glimpse  over  the  trees  and  roofs  of  the  giant 
gasometer  of  the  Oval,  and  he  can  imagine  on  a 
summer's  day  all  kinds  of  delectable  occurrences  in 

47 


48  LONDON  LAVENDER 

progress  on  the  other  side  of  it  —  Hitch  at  mid- 
off  stopping  express  trains ;  Hobbs  at  the  wicket,  pun- 
ishing and  masterful ;  or  whatever  he  most  fancies. 

The  white  wainscotted  room  when  I  entered  it  was 
full  of  smoke  and  noisy  with  talk.  I  contrived  to 
find  Dabney's  hand  in  the  fog  and  he  pushed  me 
into  a  chair.  I  gathered  that  public  men  were  under 
discussion :  the  session  was  well  advanced  and  the 
unexpected  abilities  which  it  had  brought  forth  and 
the  old  abilities  which  it  had  tested  and  found  want- 
ing were  being  appraised,  in  the  off-hand  smoking- 
room  way.  Funny  to  one  outside  the  machine 
to  hear  names  which  ought  by  their  eminence  to 
inspire  respect  —  and  among  the  simple  and  ig- 
norant do  so  —  tossed  about  so  lightly  and  dis- 
cussed so  contemptuously.  This  man,  it  is  true, 
was  fifty  per  cent,  stronger  than  last  year ;  but  most 
of  them  were  disappointments,  done. 

These  terrible  fellows  sized  up  everyone  and 
everything,  as  they  puffed  and  sipped.  And  there 
was  nothing  they  did  not  know.  They  knew  all  the 
secrets  of  the  Court  as  well  as  of  Parliament.  They 
knew  why  this  man's  name  was  not  in  the  last  list 
of  honours  and  why  that  man's  was.  They  knew 
everyone  who  drank  too  much  and  everyone  who 
loved  unwisely  but  too  well. 

Politics,  I  confess,  do  not  interest  me,  except  as 
warp  and  woof  of  the  newspaper  drama  of  life.  I 
would  not  like  to  be  a  politician ;  nor  indeed  could  I. 
Only  a  surgical  operation  would  be  able  to  effect 


LONDON  LAVENDER  49 

that :  some  phlebotomizing  process,  to  be  followed 
by  an  injection  of  molten  brass  into  the  deplenished 
veins.  But  I  like  to  watch  the  wire-pullers  at  work. 
There  was  one  at  Dabney's,  the  secretary  to  some 
organization :  a  bulky  Rabelaisian  cigar-smoker,  or 
I  might  almost  say  cigar-eater,  named  Rudson- 
Wayte.  Looking  at  him  through  the  haze,  as  he 
absorbed  his  tobacco  and  drank  his  whisky,  I  found 
myself  wondering  if  on  that  idle  Sunday  —  the  first 
week-end  —  the  Creator,  when  He  surveyed  His  six 
days'  work,  had  exact  foreknowledge  of  these  two 
lenitives  and  the  extent  to  which  His  children  in 
the  distant  days  to  come  would  depend  upon  them. 
Rudson-Wayte  more  even  than  most  men  at  an 
editor's  housewarming  leant  upon  both,  and  they 
seemed  to  agree  with  him,  for  his  head  was  un- 
doubtedly clear  and  hard.  In  a  bout  with  the 
gloves  or  a  hundred  yards'  sprint  no  doubt  he  would 
cut  a  poor  enough  figure  on  such  a  regimen ;  but 
then  the  highly  specialized  civilization  under  which 
he  flourishes  has  eliminated  both  necessities.  Per- 
fectly easy  nowadays  for  a  London  gentleman  to 
live  fifty  years  after  leaving  College  and  never  accel- 
erate his  steps  at  all. 

Not  that  Rudson-Wayte  was  a  stranger  to  the 
strenuous  life;  but  always  from  without.  He  had 
looked  down  amusedly  from  many  a  platform  and 
watched  ejections  and  free  fights ;  but  he  had  not 
taken  part.  His,  to  observe  and  make  the  best  of 
the  situation  for  his  party.    He  told  us  of  many 


50  LONDON  LAVENDER 

such  experiences  and  of  the  strategy  which  he  had 
devised  for  the  safety  of  his  speakers.  He  referred 
to  them  as  his  men.  "Of  course,  the  only  thing  for 
me  to  think  of  was  how  to  get  my  man  out  of  it." 
And  so  forth. 

.  "My  man  was  a  bit  of  a  stick,  not  long  married, 
and  his  precious  skin  was  rather  on  his  mind.  The 
crowd  was  ugly  too ;  began  breaking  the  chair  legs 
off  for  clubs.  He  hadn't  any  way  with  him  at  all, 
but  there  were  reasons  why  he  should  have  gone 
down  there  to  speak,  and  he  was  sound  enough  on 
the  principal  question.  Brought  down  his  fist  at  the 
right  moments,  you  know,  and  had  quite  a  clever 
way  with  the  word  '  Mister '  —  for  or  against.  But 
the  game  was  up  now,  and  things  got  worse  when 
we  heard  that  there  was  a  gang  outside  waiting  for 
us.  There  was  only  one  thing  to  do  and  I  did  it. 
I  got  hold  of  four  others  of  my  lot  and  told  them 
their  roles.  Then  I  turned  up  my  collar,  and 
smashed  my  hat  in  so  as  not  to  be  recognized, 
grabbed  my  man,  and  we  carried  him  forcibly  out  by 
the  back  door.  As  I  feared,  there  were  a  thousand 
of  them  there  waiting  to  duck  the  whole  platform. 
The  instant  we  emerged  from  the  door  supporting  our 
burden,  who  was  all  collapsed  into  his  clothes,  I 
called  out,  'A  doctor  !  A  doctor  !  Is  there  a  doctor 
here  ? '  They  shut  down  at  once  and  made  a  path 
for  us.  Bless  you,  the  British  public  can't  be  trusted 
to  carry  anything  through.  They're  always  waiting 
to  be  diverted.     It  touched  their  old  hearts,  don't 


LONDON  LAVENDER  51 

you  see?  'Somebody  hurt?  Steady  on,  boys. 
Let  them  through  first/  and  so  on.  So  we  got 
through  and  were  driving  to  the  next  town  and  the 
train  for  London  in  no  time.     London's  the  mother." 

He  seemed  to  me  rather  a  hateful  type,  this 
cynical  manipulator  of  candidates  and  passions ;  but 
Dabney  tells  me  that  he  is  really  one  of  the  best 
of  men,  with  naturally  very  simple  tastes,  domesti- 
cated, musical,  and  devoted  to  ornithology.  It  is 
one  of  the  bores  of  growing  old,  that  one  loses  the 
power  of  dividing  the  sheep  and  the  goats.  When 
one  is  young,  bad  men  are  bad  men  and  good  men 
good  men.  As  one  gets  older  their  boundaries 
begin  to  get  confused  and  encroach  each  on  the 
other ;  and  I  suppose  that  by  the  time  I  am  seventy 
I  shall  not  know  any  difference  between  them. 

I  asked  Rudson-Wayte  about  bribery  and  cor- 
ruption —  were  they  extinct  ? 

"As  the  dodo,  I  don't  think,"  he  replied.  "The 
more  you  have  to  do  with  politics,  the  more  you 
realize  that  human  nature  is  human  nature.  Nothing 
ever  changes.  People  tell  you  that  Dickens  was  a 
caricaturist,  an  exaggerator.  He  may  have  been 
when  he  wrote  about  some  things,  but  not  when  he 
described  the  Eatanswill  election.  That's  as  true 
as  a  Blue  Book  —  every  word  of  it  —  and  always  will 
be.  Human  nature  doesn't  get  out  of  date.  Bribery 
and  corruption !  —  great  Heavens,  what  else  should 
there  be  ?  I  don't  say  that  money  passes  from  hand 
to  hand  quite  so  crudely ;  but  money's  not  the  only 


52  LONDON  LAVENDER 

medium  of  bribery.  Every  man  has  his  price  to-day, 
as  ever,  only  he  often  prefers  payment  in  kind. 
Why,  you  can  bribe  a  man  with  virtue  now  and 
then.  The  big  Nonconformist  employers  who  carry 
a  hatful  of  votes  —  lay  preachers,  you  know  —  you 
can  get  at  them  by  sitting  under  them  one  Sunday. 
They  don't  want  money  or  promises :  they  want 
homage.  Of  course  they  do.  Another  man  merely 
wants  to  be  seen  accepting  a  cigar  from  your  own 
case ;  another  to  take  your  arm  in  public.  It's  after 
the  election's  over  that  this  last  type  becomes  such  a 
nuisance." 

"It's  a  low  game,"  Dabney  said,  "and  you're  a  low 
lot,  and  I  don't  really  know  why  I  like  you  and  ask 
you  to  sit  under  a  decent  roof." 

Rudson-Wayte  smiled  joyously.  "No  worse  than 
editing  a  paper,"  he  said,  "and  suppressing  the  truth 
about  everything." 

"And  who  does  that?"  Dabney  asked  quiveringly. 

"You  do,  of  course,  every  week.  You  attack  one 
side  for  its  turpitude  and  cynicism  and  applaud  the 
other  side  for  its  high  ideals  and  self-sacrifice,  when 
you  know  there's  not  a  penny  to  choose  between 
them.  They're  just  the  same  men,  with  different 
views  as  to  how  a  business  should  be  managed.  You 
know  that :  you  must  know,  because  directly  one  of 
the  big  men  on  the  other  side  —  one  of  your  blackest 
bugbears  —  retires,  or  dies,  or  loses  his  wife,  you  have 
an  article  on  his  personal  charm  and  private  integ- 
rity, the  whole  thing  really  proving  him  an  arrant 


LONDON  LAVENDER  53 

humbug  ready  to  support  against  his  conscience  any 
policy  forced  upon  him  by  his  party  or  venal  circum- 
stance. You  can't  deny  it.  And  again,  every  now 
and  then  when  some  non-party  question  brings  two 
conspicuous  opponents  on  the  same  platform  in 
agreement,  with  compliments  to  each  other,  you  say 
how  delightful  are  these  amenities  of  English  political 
life  which  permit  private  friendliness  to  exist  along- 
side public  hostility;  whereas  that  is,  when  looked 
into  a  little  deeper,  really  a  cause  for  shame,  because 
men  should  be  all  of  a  piece.  Well,  what  I  say  is 
that  if  you  can  write  calmly  like  that  of  party 
politicians,  and  defend  it,  there  is  no  need  for  me  to 
be  troubled  by  your  condemnation  of  me  for  being 
concerned  in  the  making  of  party  politics." 

Dabney  really  took  it  very  well,  and  as  a  matter  of 
fact  I  don't  know  that  he  could  have  made  much  of 
a  defence  even  if  he  had  not  been  our  host.  All  he 
said  was,  "Well,  damn  the  party  system  anyway." 

A  young  man  who  had  been  interjecting  remarks 
very  freely  here  took  the  floor. 

"Of  course,"  he  said,  "damn  the  party  system. 
The  whole  mischief  is  the  party  system.  It's  rotten 
to  the  core.  What  we  want  in  Parliament  is  the 
best  men,  not  the  machine-made  men.  But  that's 
all  that  the  voter  can  be  allowed  to  vote  for.  How 
many  independent,  thinking  men  are  there  in  Parlia- 
ment to-day?  Not  half  a  dozen,  and  the  few  that 
there  are  steadily  being  frozen  out.  The  machine 
can't  endure  them,  and  the  machine  is  on  top.     I 


54 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


got  a  ticket  for  the  House  the  other  day  and  saw 
the  conspiracy  in  action.  There  was  an  old  man 
in  our  village  who  used  to  say  that  '  very  few  persons 
are  better  than  anyone  else,'  and  I  thought  of 
these  words  as  I  sat  there  and  watched  all  those 
blighters  at  work.  It  was  a  terrible  eye-opener.  I 
knew  that  they  were  obsolete  and  stupid  and  pledged 
to  the  swindle,  but  I  had  no  notion  how  stupid  they 
were.  No  candour  anywhere.  On  the  one  side 
bland  red-tapism,  and  on  the  other  the  insincere 
acrimony  of  the  Jack-out-of -office.  Their  manners, 
too,  are  an  outrage  —  they  chatter  while  speeches  are 
going  on;  they  shout  offensive  criticisms;  there  is 
never  a  moment  when  some  one  is  not  walking  about. 
It's  got  to  be  changed." 

"All  very  well,"  said  Rudson-Wayte ;  "but  you'll 
never  be  without  it.  Men  fall  into  parties  as 
naturally  as  they  fall  into  temptation.  There  must 
be  pros  and  cons.  If  you  want  to  know  how  deeply 
rooted  the  party  system  is  you  have  only  to  read  the 
papers  that  advocate  its  removal.  Their  objection 
to  party  is  to  the  party  that  is  in.  I  have  observed 
that  when  a  paper  boasts  of  having  no  favour  for 
one  party  or  the  other  it  makes  up  for  it  by  having 
an  increased  hostility  towards  one  party  or  the  other. 
No ;  if  you  really  wanted  to  lead  a  crusade  you  would 
call  for  a  party  pledged  not  to  add  another  law  to 
the  Statute  Book  as  long  as  it  held  office.  That 
would  be  something  like.  Also  it  would  automati- 
cally rid  the  party  at  any  rate  of  the  legal  element. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  55 

But  this  is  shop.  For  Heaven's  sake  talk  about 
something  else." 

"We  will,"  said  Dabney,  "but  it  will  be  shop  all 
the  same." 

Dabney  was  right.  Everything  came  round  to 
shop  very  quickly,  and,  tiring  of  the  monotony,  I 
slipped  away. 

Dabney  apologized  for  the  dullness  of  the  evening. 
"You  see,  this  time,"  he  said,  "I  had  to  ask  every- 
one. We  have  better  talk  at  our  smaller  gatherings. 
Come  when  I  entertain  some  novelists." 

I  said  that  perhaps  I  would,  and  walked  homewards 
correcting  my  estimates  of  our  public  men  by  the 
light  of  the  evening's  revelations.  But  by  the  time 
I  reached  the  Euston  Road  I  had  decided  to  let  them 
all  stand  as  they  were  a  little  longer.  Those  fellows 
were  only  talking,  I  said.  Strike  London  dumb 
for  a  year  and  how  we  should  get  on  !  Progress 
then ! 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN  WHICH  AN  HONEST  COUPLE  WHO  NEVER 
DID  ANYONE  ANY  HARM  ARE  SEEN  ON 
THE  BRINK  OF  THE  STRUGGLE  WITH  PROS- 
PERITY 

IT  was  the  next  morning,  I  think,  that  Mrs.  Wiles 
entered  the  room  in  a  state  of  high  tension  and 
handed  me  a  letter.  It  came,  she  said,  after  Wiles 
had  left  for  the  Zoo,  and  would  I  do  her  the  great 
favour  of  conveying  it  to  him  ?  But,  first  of  all,  would 
I  read  it  and  give  my  opinion  as  to  whether  or  not 
it  was  a  "have"?  With  these  words  she  asked 
permission  to  sit  down,  and  sank  into  a  chair  with 
her  hand  on  her  heart  in  something  very  like  collapse. 
While  Naomi  fetched  a  restorative  I  opened  the  letter 
and  read  as  follows  : 

"Mr.  Mordecai  Wiles. 

"Dear  Sir,  —  It  is  our  pleasure  to  inform  you  that 
in  accordance  with  the  terms  of  the  will  of  the  late 
Samuel  Wiles  of  18  Bonchurch  Road,  Melbourne,  of 
which  we  enclose  a  copy,  you  are  sole  heir  to  his 
property.  To  what  this  amounts  we  cannot  at  present 
state,  but  not  less  than  £50,000.     We  beg  to  enclose 

56 


LONDON  LAVENDER  57 

a  cheque  for  £500  to  meet  any  emergencies  that 
may  occur,  and  await  your  instructions  as  to  our 
future  action.  —  We  are,  yours  obediently, 

''Morgan  &  Rice" 

Who  was  this  Mr.  Wiles,  I  asked.  Mrs.  Wiles  said 
that  he  was  an  uncle  of  her  husband's,  as  indeed  I 
instinctively  knew,  for  is  not  Australia  peopled  by 
uncles  who  do  this  kind  of  thing  ? 

"Do  you  know  how  much  it  is?"  I  asked  her. 
"It's  two  thousand  a  year,  without  touching  the 
capital  at  all.     What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said.  "Ask  Wiles.  It  fright- 
ens me.    We  were  so  happy,  too." 

"But  you  needn't  be  any  less  happy,"  said  Naomi. 

"I  don't  know.  It  frightens  me,"  the  poor  thing 
repeated.     "It's   too   late.     Wiles  will  get  so  fat." 

"Oh  no,"  said  Naomi,  "we  must  see  to  that.  We 
must  keep  him  busy." 

"It  isn't  as  if  we  had  children,"  said  Mrs.  Wiles. 
"Then  it  might  be  a  good  thing.  But  we're  all  alone. 
We've  never  spent  so  much  as  two  pounds  a  week  in 
our  lives.  And  the  little  nest-egg  we'd  been  saving 
all  these  years  —  to  buy  a  house  with  —  it  makes  that 
look  so  foolish  !"  The  good  creature  was  actually  in 
tears.  "But  perhaps  it's  all  a  mistake,"  she  added 
more  brightly. 

"I  don't  think  so,"  I  said.  "This  cheque  is  too 
real  for  that,  and  the  copy  of  the  will,  too.  Your 
husband's  name  is  Mordecai,  isn't  it?" 


58  LONDON  LAVENDER 

"  I'm  afraid  so,"  she  said. 

I  carried  the  momentous  documents  to  the  New 
Ape-House,  not  without  trepidation  and  misgiving. 
They  were,  I  could  see,  the  death-warrant  to  Wiles 
as  Barbara's  keeper;  and  I  felt  resentment  against 
fate  for  so  brutally  breaking  this  bond,  apart 
altogether  from  other  mischief  which  might  ensue. 
It  was  not  as  if  either  Wiles  or  his  wife  had  imagina- 
tion or  any  breadth  of  view.  They  were  the  most 
ordinary,  simple,  faithful  creatures,  not  in  the  least 
discontented  with  their  lot,  and  not  in  the  least  fitted 
to  receive  a  fortune.  They  were  too  good  for  it; 
they  had  done  nothing  to  deserve  such  a  chastisement. 
A  hundred  a  year  —  that  would  have  been  sensible  :  a 
fund  against  illness,  a  security  for  old  age,  a  sanction 
for  certain  little  extras  now ;  but  two  thousand  a  year 
was  monstrous. 

Wiles  was  just  showing  out  some  impatient  F.Z.S. 
when  I  arrived,  and  I  watched  the  transfer  of  a  shilling 
from  hand  to  hand.  Looking  the  F.Z.S.  over,  I 
doubted  if  he  had  more  than  £1800  a  year,  and  smiled 
to  myself.  Wiles  [led  me  in,  and  for  a  time  I 
did  nothing  but  caress  Barbara  and  feed  her  with 
grapes. 

Then  I  said,  "Mr.  Wiles,  how  would  you  like  to 
be  rich?" 

"Rich,"  he  said.     "How  rich?" 

"Well,  rich  enough  to  spend  as  many  days  as  you 
liked  at  Lord's  or  the  Oval  ?" 

"But  what  about  my  apes  ?"  he  asked. 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


59 


"I  mean  so  rich  that  you  couldn't  very  well  go  on 
looking  after  them,"  I  said. 

"I  shouldn't  like  that,"  he  replied. 

"But  don't  you  ever  want  a  holiday?" 

"Not  more  than  a  day  or  so.  I  can't  trust  my 
mate  enough  for  more  than  that." 

"But  surely  if  you  had  to  leave  the  Zoo  owing  to 
a  fortune  you  could  get  accustomed  to  it  ?  " 

Wiles  became  suspicious.  "May  I  ask  who  and 
what  you're  getting  at?"  he  said. 

I  handed  him  the  letter.  He  read  it  and  the  will 
several  times. 

"Well,  I'm  jiggered,"  he  said  at  last.  "Well,  I'm 
jiggered." 

"Your  wife  asked  me  to  bring  it,"  I  told  him. 

"So  I  supposed,"  he  said.  "And  she,  what  does 
she  think  of  it  all?" 

"She's  jiggered  too,"  I  said. 

"Poor  old  girl,"  he  said.  "How  much  a  year  do 
you  reckon  it  comes  to  ?"  he  asked. 

"About  two  thousand  pounds." 

He  whistled.  "And  here  have  I  been  looking  in  a 
pawnbroker's  window  in  Camden  Town  High  Street 
for  the  past  three  months,  wondering  if  I  could  treat 
myself  to  a  meerschaum  pipe  he's  got  there,  at  twelve- 
and-six,  to  smoke  on  Sundays.  I  can  have  a  bushel 
of  them  now,  and  there's  no  fun  in  it." 

I  walked  back  by  way  of  the  sea-lions'  enclosure 
to  refresh  my  eyes  with  the  King  Penguin's  perfect 
ecclesiastical    tailoring.     He    was    pacing    moodily 


60  LONDON  LAVENDER 

about  as  usual,  in  what  one  felt  to  be  the  interval 
between  a  marriage  ceremony  and  a  funeral  service. 
Much  better,  I  thought,  to  have  left  the  £2000  a  year 
to  him.  No  harm  would  then  be  done,  and  what 
perfect  episcopal  garden-parties  he  could  give  with  it ! 

The  Misses  Packers'  attitude  to  Mrs.  Wiles,  Naomi 
tells  me,  underwent  an  extraordinary  change  on 
hearing  the  news.  That  they  were  losing  an  excel- 
lent and  inexpensive  assistant  they  could  not  forget; 
and  they  overwhelmed  her  with  attentions,  led  her 
downstairs  with  the  tenderest  solicitude,  and  plied  her 
with  tea.  This  was  not,  I  am  convinced,  the  rather 
ugly  homage  of  the  poor  to  the  rich,  but  merely  paying 
success  its  due.  For  the  Misses  Packer  belong  to  that 
large  branch  of  the  human  family  which  worships 
success.  Mrs.  Wiles  had  succeeded :  she  was  worth 
£2000  a  year;  and  they  recognized  her  merit 
accordingly.  They  did  not  want  any  of  her  money  or 
envy  her  her  position  at  the  top  of  the  tree:  they 
merely  lit  a  votive  lamp  before  her. 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Wiles  was  able  to  tell  us  more. 
Wiles  had  been  thinking  it  over  and  had  decided  to 
do  nothing  until  the  estate  was  wound  up  and  all  the 
money  his.  He  had,  however,  mentioned  the  matter 
to  two  or  three  of  his  mates  in  confidence;  but  this 
turned  out  to  be  one  of  the  secrets  that  apparently  no 
one  ever  pretends  to  try  to  keep,  for  by  night  every- 
one knew  of  it :  Wiles  was  a  millionaire ;  and  fourteen 
men  that  he  didn't  like  first  asked  him  to  drink  and 
then  tried  to  borrow  five  shillings. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  "fo 

"I  shall  go  on  here  too,"  said  Mrs.  Wiles.  "That 
is,  as  long  as  they'll  let  me.  But  they  do  treat  me  so 
ladylike  it  makes  me  nervous,  and  that  Miss  Cole 
wants  to  find  a  house  for  me  and  introduce  me  to 
some  of  her  friends.  The  idea  !  Still,  it  would  be  a 
nice  thing  to  give  up  the  place  and  then  find  the 
whole  affair  was  a  noax.  Oh,  and  please,  Wiles  says, 
would  you  be  so  kind  as  to  take  care  of  this  cheque 
for  him  —  put  it  in  your  bank  ?  " 

As  it  happened,  it  was  no  hoax,  and,  circumstances 
quickly  proving  too  much  for  them,  the  Wiles  had 
to  become  gentlefolk.  The  result  is  that  Wiles  has 
left  the  Zoo  and  wears  black  clothes.  These  are  not 
out  of  respect  for  the  avuncular  gander  who  laid 
the  golden  eggs,  but  because  black  clothes  signify 
a  holiday,  and  all  life  is  now  a  holiday  for  him. 
Mrs.  Wiles  has  left  us  and  wears  a  hat  ten  years  too 
young  for  her,  with  cherries.  They  have  moved  to  a 
new  house  in  a  quiet  street  off  the  Camden  Town 
Road,  where  they  keep  a  small  servant ;  but  this  is  a 
waste  of  money,  for,  in  the  first  place,  Mrs.  Wiles  does 
everything  in  the  end,  and,  in  the  second  place,  their 
old  neighbours  would  gladly  club  together  to  pay  the 
girl's  wages  themselves,  just  to  be  kept  informed  at 
first  hand  of  how  the  millionaires  are  going  on. 

Naomi  and  I  called,  by  invitation,  to  take  tea  with 
them,  and  we  were  all  polite  and  uncomfortable,  and 
I  saw  poor  Wiles's  eyes  and  thoughts  wandering 
towards  the  kitchen,  where  he  could  have  taken  off 
his  coat  and  been  at  his  ease.     I  found  that  he  had 


62  LONDON  LAVENDER 

spent  the  morning,  as  I  expected,  at  the  Zoo,  talking 
to  old  friends,  and  in  fact  he  usually  drops  in  for  an 
hour  every  day. 

"Yes,"  said  his  wife,  rather  acidly,  " can't  keep 
away  from  his  Barbara." 

Mrs.  Wiles  admitted  that  she  had  been  cleaning 
up  a  little;  unoccupied  rooms  do  get  that  dirty  in 
London.  In  the  afternoon  Wiles  reads  the  paper  or 
takes  a  walk,  and  sometimes  Mrs.  Wiles  accompanies 
him  to  a  picture  palace.  In  the  evening  he  becomes 
more  normal  again  and  drops  into  a  public-house 
and  perhaps  plays  a  game  of  billiards;  but  even  in 
these  blessed  hours,  when  bed  is  approaching  and 
another  day  dies,  things  are  not  the  same,  for  he 
can  no  longer  frequent  his  old  haunt,  the  Cross  Keys. 
He  went  there  for  a  little  while,  but  had  to  give  it 
up,  partly  on  account  of  chaff,  but  chiefly  because 
he  found  that  he  was  expected  to  pay  for  everything 
for  everybody.  So  now  he  spends  his  evenings  in 
finding  new  houses  of  call,  where  his  history  is  un- 
known, in  continual  fear  of  an  old  acquaintance 
coming  in  and  giving  him  away. 

"Then  wealth  isn't  an  unmixed  blessing?"  I 
asked. 

"I  wouldn't  say  that,  sir,  not  yet ;  but  it's  a  terrible 
change.  What  worries  me  more  than  anything  else 
—  even  more  than  finding  how  many  friends  I've 
got  that  I'd  never  dreamed  were  friends  at  all  —  is 
the  way  that  when  you  have  money  you're  afraid 
of  spending  it.    When  I  had  my  wages  and  a  little 


LONDON  LAVENDER  63 

over  in  tips  I  knew  where  I  was.  Now  I  don't  know 
anything.  As  I've  told  the  missis  time  and  again, 
it's  going  to  make  a  miser  of  me." 

"If  you'll  take  my  advice,"  I  said  to  Wiles,  "you 
will  buy  a  share  in  some  small  business  that  will  give 
you  an  interest  and  an  occupation.  You  are  too 
young  to  be  doing  nothing :  you'll  go  to  sec  I  and 
get  ill.  Don't  let  money  injure  you :  make  it  a 
useful  servant  and  friend." 

"Yes ;  but  what  can  I  do  ?"  he  asked. 

"Well,  we  must  make  inquiries,"  I  said.  "There 
must  be  such  things  going." 

"And  if  you'll  take  my  advice,"  said  Naomi  to 
Mrs.  Wiles,  "you'll  adopt  a  child ;  not  so  small  as  to 
be  an  anxiety,  but  just  big  enough  to  be  a  companion 
and  a  nice  responsibility." 

Personally  I  wish  this  Australian  uncle  had  been 
a  decent  bankrupt,  for  his  money  has  done  no  one 
any  good.  The  Zoo  has  lost  a  capable  keeper;  the 
Misses  Packer  and  ourselves  have  lost  a  good  servant ; 
and  the  Wiles  have  lost  peace  of  mind  and  any  real 
reason  for  existence. 


CHAPTER  IX 

IN  WHICH  THE  TOP-FLOOR-BACK  TURNS  OUT 
TO  BE  AN  ACQUAINTANCE  AND  SCHEMES 
ARE  UNFOLDED  FOR  THE  SALVATION  OF 
OF  AN  EFFETE  RACE 

WE  had  at  school  a  literature  master  who,  in  the 
course  of  many  hundreds  of  discourses,  made 
two  remarks  which  have  never  left  me;  or  would  it 
not  be  fairer  to  say  that  of  the  hundreds  of  lectures 
which  I  heard  from  a  certain  literature  master  I 
have  succeeded  in  retaining  two  injunctions  ?  One 
was  the  comment  (which  he  had  from  Dr.  Johnson) 
that  repetition  is  a  fault  rarely  committed  by  bad 
writers,  and  the  other,  that  what  we  call  coincidences 
should  never  be  noticed.  This  being  so,  I  cannot 
describe  as  a  coincidence  the  fact  that  the  young 
Socialist  at  Dabney's  turns  out  to  be  our  own 
Socialist  of  the  top  floor  of  whose  profounder 
sincerities  Mrs.  Wiles  is  so  sceptical.  I  saw  him 
the  next  day  both  enter  the  house  and  leave  it, 
banging  the  door  with  a  vehemence  that  would  break 
up  any  delicately  organized  communistic  home ;  and 
since  then  we  have  met  in  mutual  recognition  and 

have  conversed. 

64 


LONDON  LAVENDER  65 

Spanton  seems  to  be  very  much  in  earnest  —  a 
boyish  figure  of  about  twenty-six,  clean  shaven,  but 
without  the  soft  brown  clothes,  costly  Jaegerisms,  and 
other  external  insignia  of  his  kind.  On  the  contrary, 
he  is  a  bit  of  a  dandy,  uses  quite  superlative  soap, 
and  has  a  manicure  set.  It  has  been  said  that  nothing 
is  more  annoying  than  to  be  agreed  with  when  one 
is  indulging  a  mood  of  self-depreciation.  Well,  Span- 
ton  will  never  be  annoyed  that  way. 

"They're  a  foolish  lot,"  he  said,  referring  to  the 
company  at  Dabney's.  "They  go  there  every  week 
just  to  cackle,  and  none  of  them  ever  lives  at  all. 
Except  possibly  that  blackguard,  Rudson-Wayte,  and 
he  ought  to  be  in  gaol.  But  the  whole  world's  like 
that.  All  my  friends  and  acquaintances  are  either 
writing  or  talking  or  vegetating.  Dabney  kindles  to 
excitability  every  day  over  something  said  in  the 
House,  or  something  said  by  other  journalists  about 
something  said  in  the  House,  and  that's  how  he 
will  go  on  spending  this  boon  of  life  to  the  end  — 
never  travelling,  never  suffering,  never  being  hungry 
or  thirsty  or  wicked.  What  a  way  to  live  !  And  your 
novelists  and  dramatists  too"  —  like  so  many  of  the 
world's  reformers  this  young  man  has  the  most 
exasperating  way  of  saying  "you"  and  "your"  — 
"your  novelists  and  dramatists  trafficking  in  the  sham 
emotions  of  their  puppets,  how  they  are  wasting  this 
boon  of  life  !  And  all  their  myriad  audiences  in  the 
theatres,  or  readers  reclining  on  sofas,  how  they  are 
wasting  it !  -  -  lulling  themselves  with  the  stories  of 


66  LONDON  LAVENDER 

fictitious  mannikins,  instead  of  doing  something, 
almost  no  matter  what.  And  this  enemy  of  society 
who  lives  under  our  very  roof,  the  cinema  man,  what 
an  account  there  will  be  to  settle  with  him  one  day ! 
He's  one  of  the  worst  lullers. 

"It  infuriates  me.  Something  has  got  to  be  done, 
and  I'm  going  to  do  it.  England's  got  to  look  herself 
in  the  face.  She's  been  dodging  the  mirror  for  years, 
but  she's  got  to  do  it.     I'm  out  to  see  that  she  does." 

Asked  what  he  did  towards  that  end,  Spanton  said 
that  at  the  moment  he  was  delivering  a  series  of 
lectures  at  such  boys'  schools  as  permitted  treason  to 
be  talked.  They  were  addresses  on  Socialism;  not 
pure  Socialism,  but  a  brand  of  his  own. 

"Because,  of  course,"  he  said,  "we  must  get  hold  of 
the  younger  generation.  The  middle-aged  and  the 
elderly  are  no  good;  young  men,  youths,  and  boys 
are  the  best  material.  I  show  them  as  vividly  as  I 
can  how  dependent  all  of  them  are  on  labour  not  only 
for  their  comfort,  but  for  the  necessities  of  life.  I 
have  slides  illustrating  all  the  chief  industries  and 
some  of  the  minor  ones,  even  to  cricket-bat  making. 
I  take  them  down  coal-mines  and  show  them  what 
kind  of  a  life  a  miner  has  to  lead  before  our  eggs  and 
bacon  can  be  cooked.  I  draw  comparisons  between 
their  own  pocket-money  and  the  earnings  of  many 
kinds  of  labourers.  In  short  I  do  all  I  can  to  make 
them  think  vividly  of  what  the  underworld  of  toil  is 
like,  and  to  realize  how  the  spectacle  of  the  upper 
world  of  wealth,  as  reflected  in  the  halfpenny  papers, 


LONDON  LAVENDER  67 

must  strike  the  toiler.  If  once  they  can  be  brought  to 
understand  this  —  to  put  themselves  in  the  place  of 
those  others  —  things  will  be  easier.  Because  it  is  a 
realization  which  they  will  never  forget.  I  don't 
draw  any  moral.  I  don't  suggest  that  there  shall  be 
an  equal  division  of  property  or  anything  like  that. 
For  one  thing,  the  schoolmasters  wouldn't  let  me, 
and  for  another,  I  don't  believe  in  equality.  But  I  do 
drop  a  hint  now  and  then  that  cricket  and  football  are 
not  all,  and  that  the  possession  of  riches  carries  with 
it  a  responsibility  to  the  State." 

"I  should  guess,"  I  said,  "that  not  the  least  of  your 
difficulties  in  preparing  your  addresses  is  softening 
the  adjectives.  You  must  want  to  say  so  much  more 
than  you  dare." 

"O  Heavens,  yes! "  he  replied  fervently.  "I  have 
the  very  deuce  of  a  time  with  the  blue  pencil.  And 
there  are  other  troubles  too.  Some  little  while  ago,  for 
example,  I  was  just  rabid  about  a  freak  dinner  that 
had  been  given  in  one  of  the  big  London  restaurants, 
where  some  dancing  girl  was  throned  on  a  solid  bank 
of  roses  that  cost  eight  hundred  pounds,  and  the 
musicians  were  seated  in  a  barca  that  glided  about  a 
lake  made  for  that  evening  only.  There  was  a  strike 
on  at  the  time,  and  the  contrast  between  this  lavish 
rotten  luxury  on  the  one  side  and  the  destitution  of 
the  strikers'  wives  and  children  on  the  other  was  too 
extreme.  In  the  old  days  when  the  poor  couldn't 
read,  or  papers  were  too  expensive,  such  dinners  had 
a  chance  of  being  missed ;    but  to-day  everything  is 


68  LONDON  LAVENDER 

made  public  and  reaches  even  the  poorest,  and  helps 
very  properly  to  inflame  them.  That  is  one  of  the 
principal  reasons  why  nothing  is  ever  going  to  be  the 
same  any  more. 

"Well,  anyhow,  I  found  something  to  say  about 
this,  and  said  it  with  a  certain  amount  of  unambiguity. 
And  what  happened?  The  schoolmaster  seemed  at 
the  time  quite  satisfied,  but  I  received  a  letter  from 
him  later  asking  me  not  to  come  again.  It  appears, 
as  I  afterwards  found  out,  that  one  of  the  givers  of 
the  feast  was  a  notoriously  rich  Jew  whose  son  was 
at  the  school.  The  son  wrote  home  about  it  and  the 
father  threatened  to  take  him  away  if  any  more  such 
lectures  were  delivered.     So  there  you  are  ! 

"But  what  I  really  want  to  see  in  force  more  than 
anything  else,"  Spanton  went  on,  "and  these  lectures 
of  mine  are  really  a  kind  of  gentle  preamble  to  the 
campaign,  is  compulsory  manual  labour  for  every- 
body.    A  kind  of  pacific  conscription.     Ruskin,  you 
remember,  set  his  undergraduates  to  make  a  road. 
They  did  it  perhaps  rather  too  much  as  a  lark  and 
not  steadily  or  sweatily  enough.     I  would  catch  the 
boys  earlier  and  put  them  for  one  or  two  years  to 
mining,  building,  engineering,  digging,  whatever  it  is, 
at   the  time  when  they  would  naturally  be  at  the 
Universities   or   just   entering    office.      That    would 
enlarge  their  sympathies  and  give  them  the  practical 
insight  which  is  the  next  best  thing  to  imagination. 
But  the  time  for  such  a  scheme  is  not  yet." 

"It  seems  to  me,"  I  said,  "that  your  scheme  might 


LONDON  LAVENDER  69 

go  farther  with  enormously  beneficial  results.  If  to 
know  all  is  to  understand  all,  a  system  of  interchange 
of  employment  and  positions,  carried  out  fully,  would 
get  into  every  section  of  society  an  understanding  of 
the  others.  If  the  lady  took  a  turn  in  the  kitchen 
she  would  understand  her  cook's  difficulties,  while  the 
cook  in  the  dining-room  would  know  for  the  first  time 
what  it  felt  like  when  the  dishes  were  cold,  underdone, 
or  late.  A  bond  would  thus  grow.  Again,  if  the  im- 
patient patron  of  the  restaurant  had  to  take  the 
waiter's  napkin  for  a  while,  he  would  learn  not  only 
the  reason  of  delay,  but  what  it  feels  like  to  be 
spoken  to  like  dirt,  and  the  waiter,  if  he  came  in 
equally  hungry  and  pressed  for  time,  would  appreciate 
the  provocation  to  be  sarcastic  and  rasping.  And  so 
on,  right  through  society,  until  we  all  knew." 

Spanton  was  pleased  to  say  that  my  amendment 
was  sensible ;  but  it  would  not  be  very  practicable,  he 
thought.     He  has  little  humour,  and  no  respect  for  it. 

"And  meanwhile,"  I  asked,  "what  trade  have  you 
learned  ?  " 

He  said  he  had  learned  none.  He  had  been  to 
Paris  to  learn  painting ;  had  given  it  up  and  become 
a  convinced  Socialist,  and  was  now  devoting  himself 
to  propaganda. 

"But  surely,"  I  said,  "it  would  be  well,  if  only  to 
strengthen  your  case,  to  put  the  plan  into  execution 
yourself.  You  are  so  young  and  you  lay  yourself 
open  to  the  charge  of  inconsistency." 

"I  don't  care  about  that,"  he  said.    "All  Socialists 


70  LONDON  LAVENDER 

are  inconsistent :  that  is  the  first  thing  to  get  into 
your  head  in  any  dealings  with  us.  But  we  are  not 
more  inconsistent  than  Christians  —  that  is,  if  Christ 
was  a  Christian,  which  one  often  doubts.  My  special 
line  is  clear  thinking  and  persuasiveness,  and  one 
must  do  what  one  can  do  best." 

"And  meanwhile  what  of  the  great  boon  of  life  ?  "  I 
said.  "Is  it  not  in  danger,  like  unpopular  bills,  of 
being  '  talked  out '?  " 

He  was  silent.  "Oh,  well,"  he  said  at  last,  "per- 
haps I  like  talking  best.  I  wonder.  But  it's  con- 
structive talk.^_You  can't  deny  that." 


CHAPTER  X 

IN  WHICH  WE  FIND  OURSELVES  IN  THE  BOSOM 
OF  AN  ENGLISH  FAMILY  AND  WATCH  A 
UTOPIAN  IN  LOVE 

FOR  some  obscure  reason  Spanton  has  taken  a 
fancy  to  me,  and  I  must  admit  in  return  that  I 
find  something  rather  likeable  in  the  scientific  cool- 
ness of  his  mind  and  his  dominating  desire  to  see 
straight.  Having  taken  a  fancy  to  me,  it  follows  that 
he  wanted  me  to  meet  his  betrothed,  for  although  it 
naturally  goes  against  his  grain  to  do  anything  so 
conventional  and  banal  as  to  be  engaged,  with  the 
prospect  of  a  legalized  union  in  the  future,  human 
nature  has  been  too  much  for  him,  and  rather  than 
lose  his  Nancy  he  has  agreed  to  her  father's  very 
moderate  wishes  as  regards  an  engagement  and  a 
registrar.  But  I  need  hardly  say  that  he  has  given 
her  no  ring.  In  fact,  his  only  presents  to  her  so  far, 
I  understand,  are  a  typewriter  and  a  pair  of  sandals. 
Nancy  is  a  Miss  Freeland,  one  of  a  family  of  girls 
who  live  a  few  miles  out  of  London  in  a  roomy 
Georgian  house,  with  a  large  untidy  garden,  near 
Richmond. 

71 


72  LONDON  LAVENDER 

The  first  words  that  I  heard  on  entering  the  Free- 
lands'  hall  told  me  instantly  that  I  was  among  a 
twentieth-century  household:  "Oh,  father,  don't  be 
such  an  ass  !  " 

The  speaker  —  Jocelyn,  a  pretty  girl  in  a  soft  Liberty 
dress  —  at  once  broke  away  to  welcome  her  prospec- 
tive brother-in-law,  who  was  there  humanized  to  Bob, 
and  his  friend ;  and  Mr.  Freeland  laid  his  hard  case 
before  us. 

"Tell  me,"  he  said,  "is  a  man  and  a  father  an  ass 
because  he  thinks  that  one  visit  to  the  theatre  a  week 
is  enough  for  a  growing  girl  of  fifteen  ?  " 

I  was  hesitating  in  my  reply  when  another  of  the 
daughters  came  to  the  rescue. 

"  I  know  what  Mr.  Falconer  will  say,"  she  said : 
"  he  will  say  that  he  has  always  made  it  a  point  never 
to  interfere  in  disputes  between  relations.  But  Bob's 
not  like  that.  Bob's  never  so  happy  as  when  he  can 
set  relatives  disputing ;  aren't  you,  Bob  ?  " 

Nancy  here  entered  the  room,  bringing  the  number 
of  the  unmarried  sisters  to  seven.  She  is  the  only 
one  who  is  engaged,  and  is  twenty- two.  Jocelyn  is 
older;  the  rest  younger.  Nancy  is  pretty  too,  but 
less  pretty  than  Jocelyn.  The  married  daughter  is  a 
Mrs.  Gosling,  of  whom  Jocelyn  wickedly  says  that 
her  husband  is  the  only  one  of  her  suitors  who  has 
not  married  well. 

At  lunch- time  Mrs.  Freeland  appeared,  an  easy- 
going, smiling  lady,  and  we  all  sat  down  to  a  vast 
table  covered  with  food  and  noisy  with  chatter.     The 


LONDON  LAVENDER  73 

great  joke  of  the  day  —  and  in  such  families  as  these, 
where  chaff  is  the  grain  of  life  (if  I  may  so  express  it), 
each  day  produces  its  new  joke  —  was  their  father's 
recent  cleverness  in  the  matter  of  the  garden-party 
costume. 

"Have  you  heard,"  Jocelyn  asked  me,  "father's 
absolutely  topping  idea?"  and  entered  upon  the 
history;  but  beneath  the  Freeland  roof  no  narrator 
is  permitted  to  get  to  the  end  of  anything  unaided. 
Every  story  is  composite.  This  one  ran  something 
like  this. 

"You  see,"  Jocelyn  began,  "we  all  had  an  invita- 
tion to  Lady  Sydney's  garden-party;  and  father 
wanted  to  go,  but  didn't  know  what  to  wear." 

"Because,"  Mona  explained,  "it  wasn't  an  ordinary 
garden-party.  It  was  in  connection  with  father's 
great  educational  scheme." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Freeland,  "if  there  had  been  a 
nice  little  word  like  Tennis  in  the  corner  I  should 
have  had  no  qualms,  but  have  gone  in  flannels,  swing- 
ing a  racket.  But  there  wasn't,  and  a  number  of 
influential  people  were  going  to  be  there,  largely  to 
talk  to  me. " 

"Swank  !"  whispered  Joan. 

"So  father  turned  on  his  wisdom-of-the-serpent 
tap,"  said  Jocelyn,  "with  a  vengeance.  He  began  by 
dressing  in  tweeds  with  a  straw  hat." 

"Don't  forget  the  white  slip  and  spats,"  said 
Phillida. 

"Yes,   and  white   spats.     They're   so   white   that 


74  LONDON  LAVENDER 

beetles  and   other  creeping  things  are   blinded.     It's 
like  flashes  of  lightning  down  there." 

"Oh,  get  on!"  said  Mona.  "Let  me  tell  Mr. 
Falconer." 

"I  assure  you,"  said  Mr.  Freeland  to  me,  "it's  the 
tamest  story  you  ever  heard.  The  only  chance  of 
its  being  made  attractive  is  for  me  to  tell  it." 

"Well,"  said  Jocelyn,  "that  was  what  he  wore. 
But  he  also  put  into  the  car  a  complete  suit  of  the 
tail-coat  and  top-hat  variety,  and  then  Harris  and  he 
drove  off.  The  rest  of  us  had  to  get  there  as  best  we 
could  in  a  fleet  of  cabs.  Well,  Harris  and  he  drove 
off  and  pulled  up  outside  the  party  gates  to  see  the 
others  go  in  and  count  the  straw  hats  and  the  top 
hats." 

"It  was  very  awkward,"  Mr.  Freeland  put  in,  "at 
first,  because  they  came  out  equal.  But  then  the 
toppers  began  to  make  the  running,  and  when  they 
were  about  six  lengths  ahead  I  decided  that  that  was 
good  enough,  and  so  we  turned  into  a  narrow  lane 
close  by " 

"Where"  —  Jocelyn  took  it  up  again  —  "father 
changed." 

'You  see,"  Mona  explained,  "he'd  started  with 
his  tweeds  and  straw  hat." 

"Mr.  Falconer  knows  that,"  said  Jocelyn. 

"  You  can't  make  it  too  clear,"  Mona  replied. 
"The  whole  story  depends  on  that." 

"Well,"  Jocelyn  went  on,  her  face  kindling  with 
excitement,    "he   had   no    sooner   changed   and   got 


LONDON  LAVENDER  75 

nicely  into  his  tail  coat  and  things  —  and  he  really  can 
look  quite  decent,  although  to-day  you  wouldn't  think 
it—" 

"My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Freeland,  "you  mustn't  say 
things  like  that.     Your  father  always  looks  nice." 

"Not  in  his  green  jodelling  hat,  anyway,"  said 
Mona.     "No  one  can  defend  that  honestly." 

"I  like  it  very  much,"  said  Mrs.  Freeland. 

"Of  course,"  said  Janet,  "but  then  you're  his  wife. 
We're  not." 

"  Anyway,"  Jocelyn  went  on,  "father  and 
Harris " 

"Harris  is  the  chauffeur,"  said  Joan. 

" — were  patting  each  other  on  the  back  for  being 
so  jolly  artful,  when  what  do  you  think  happened?" 

"Father,  you  tell,"  said  Nancy,  who  has  an  eye 
for  drama. 

Mr.  Freeland  at  once  struck  in.  "This  is  what 
happened,"  he  said.  "Another  car  turned  into  the 
same  lane  and  pulled  up  just  round  the  corner,  and, 
peeping  through  the  trees,  to  our  horror  we  observed 
a  gentleman  in  a  tall  hat  and  morning  coat  stand  up 
in  it  and  begin  changing  into  a  straw  hat  and  tweeds. 
I  pass  over  the  extraordinary  coincidence  that  two 
guests  should  have  hit  upon  an  identical  device  to 
find  out  the  correct  thing  to  do " 

"And  we  pass  over  too,"  said  Jocelyn,  "father's 
terrible  discovery  that  the  neighbourhood  contained 
another  man  as  brilliant  as  himself." 

"—  and  simply  ask  you  to  conceive  of  Harris's  and 


76  LONDON  LAVENDER 

my  feelings.  For  if  this  other  man  was  right  we 
were  wrong." 

"Yes,"  said  Mona ;  "but  if  he  was  wrong  you  were 
right." 

"Exactly,"  I  said. 

"Very  well,  then,"  continued  Mr.  Freeland,  "I 
instantly  made  up  my  mind." 

"Napoleon  at  six  stone,"  said  Janet. 

"'There  is  only  one  thing  to  do,'  I  said.  'I  can't 
change  again.  We're  too  late  as  it  is.  We  must 
therefore  get  there  first.  To  follow  this  man  in,  in 
his  vulgar  clothes,  would  be  a  serious  blunder.'  So 
with  infinite  difficulty  and  the  most  perfect  tact  — 
carefully  turning  our  heads  from  his  quaint  occupation 
(as  though  the  lanes  of  England  were  meant  to  be 
dressing-rooms  !)  —  we  scraped  past  him,  taking,  I  am 
pleased  to  say,  a  little  varnish  off  his  mudguard, 
and  were  away  before  his  braces  were  properly 
fastened." 

"There,"  said  Jocelyn,  "don't  you  think  that  a 
masterly  move?  " 

"I  do,"  I  said. 

"All  brain  work,"  said  Mona. 

"And  when  you  were  among  the  people,"  I  said, 
"did  you  find  that  tall  hats  prevailed?  " 

"Absolutely,"  said  Mr.  Freeland. 

"I  counted  them,"  said  Jocelyn.  "There  were 
eighty-five  straws,  with  tweeds  or  flannels ;  a  hundred 
and  ten  tall  hats ;  and  forty-three  Homburgs.  Some 
of  the  Homburgs  were  worn  with  tail  coats,  so  father 


LONDON  LAVENDER  77 

could  have  taken  his  instead  of  his  topper  if  he  had 
liked." 

"  Thank  Heaven  he  didn't !  "  said  Janet. 

"My  dear  Janet,"  said  Mrs.  Freeland,  "how  can 
you?" 

There  was  also,  I  need  hardly  say,  a  joke  against 
Mrs.  Freeland.  Herself  the  most  temperate  of 
women,  she  had  lately  been  presented  with  an  Aber- 
deen terrier  named  Whisky.  Like  all  Aberdeens, 
he  was  just  a  mass  of  original  sin,  and  naturally  the 
last  thing  he  would  do  on  a  walk  was  to  keep  near 
his  mistress.  The  result  was,  as  Jocelyn  informed 
me  with  the  keenest  zest,  that  the  neighbourhood 
had  suddenly  become  painfully  aware  of  Mrs.  Free- 
land's  repeated  calls  for  whisky,  ranging  from 
the  pathetic  to  the  urgent,  and  was  drawing  its 
conclusions  accordingly. 

"Yes,"  said  Joan,  "poor  father,  the  dipsomaniac's 
husband  ! " 

I  hope  to  see  more  of  the  Freelands,  for  life  goes 
very  easily  among  them,  and  it  is  amusing  to  be 
among  so  many  fresh,  unsophisticated  young  things, 
growing  like  grass  upon  the  weir.  It  is  one  of  those 
families  where  the  skeleton  seems  never  to  leave 
the  cupboard,  and  it  is  tonic  to  visit  these  now  and 
then.  Very  different  from  the  houses  where  it  is 
the  family  that  lives  in  the  cupboard  and  one  meets 
only  the  skeleton. 

Spanton  as  a  lover  differs  radically  from  Dollie 
Heathcote.     Dollie   lets   his   Ann   go   her   own   way 


78  LONDON  LAVENDER 

and  rather  admires  her  for  it;  but  Spanton  is  the 
influencing  moulding  type.  The  last  infirmity  of 
modern  man,  some  one  has  said,  is  to  force  women 
to  give  up  their  sex;  and  Spanton  is  indulging  it. 
His  one  idea  is  to  make  his  Nancy  not  only  a  man, 
but  another  Spanton.  He  controls  her.  He  arranges 
both  her  clothes  and  her  reading.  Being  only  an 
ordinary  English  girl,  with  no  experience  and  a 
great  joy  and  pride  in  being  engaged,  she  has  fallen 
in  with  his  every  suggestion,  to  the  great  disgust  of 
her  sisters.  Gradually  and  surely  she  is  ceasing  to 
have  any  common  ground  with  them;  which  is  of 
course  very  foolish,  for  Spanton  is  not  making  her 
better,  but  merely  different.  Her  Spantonisms  are 
only  veneer;  the  sound  Freeland  stock  remains,  and 
will  remain  underneath,  although  for  the  time  being 
it  is  invisible. 

"When  half-gods  go  the  gods  arrive,"  says  the 
poet.  But  it  isn't  generally  true.  More  accurate 
would  it  be  to  say,  "When  gods  arrive  the  half-gods 
go."  That  is  a  phenomenon  which  most  families 
have  witnessed  and  the  Freeland  family  are  witnessing 
now.  Before  the  advent  of  the  god  Spanton,  Nancy 
had  been  loyal  to  her  sisters'  and  their  friends'  en- 
thusiasms. She  had  had  local  heroes  too  —  this 
cricketer,  that  tennis-player.  But  Spanton,  although 
he  may  not  be  so  proficient,  has  the  only  right  way 
of  behaving  at  these  games,  or  else  he  despises  them ; 
while  when  it  comes  to  the  arts,  he  leads  by  lengths. 
Nancy  used,  for  example,  to  be  rather  keen  on  musical 


LONDON  LAVENDER  79 

comedy;  but  Spanton  being  all  for  Shaw,  farewell 
to  Gertie  Millar.  Nancy  used  to  go  to  the  Academy 
every  May  and  revel  in  it;  but  Spanton  believing 
only  in  the  New  Englishmen,  farewell  to  the  Hon. 
John  Collier.     And  so  it  is,  all  over  this  little  island. 


CHAPTER  XI 

IN  WHICH  THERE  IS  TROUBLE  IN  THE  HOUSE 
OF  WILES  OWING  TO  A  HUSBAND  ONCE 
AGAIN   GETTING   HIS  OWN   WAY 

NAOMI  has  had  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Wiles  saying 
that  she  was  in  trouble  and  badly  in  need  of 
advice,  and  would  Mrs.  Falconer  be  so  kind  as  to 
call.  We  therefore  went  round  in  the  afternoon  and 
found  the  millionairess  in  tears. 

"Wiles  will  be  here  directly,"  she  said.  "He's  just 
gone  out  for  some  medicine." 

"No  one's  seriously  ill,  I  hope  ?  "  I  said. 

"Well,    I    don't   know,"    she   replied.     "But   you 

remember,  ma'am,  what  you  said  about  adopting  a 

child.     We   talked   that  over  and   over,   and  Wiles 

didn't  seem  to  care  about  it  at  first,  and  then  all  of 

a  sudden  he  got  brighter  and  thought  it  was  a  good 

idea.     Only,  'Leave  it  to  me,'  he  kept  saying;    'I'll 

do  it.'     Well,  I  know  Wiles  has  his  wits  about  him 

most  times,  but  when  it  comes  to  adopting  a  child, 

why,   there  I  think  that  the  choice  ought  to  have 

been  mine.     It's  woman's  work,  anyway,  especially 

as  it's  me  who  would  have  to  look  after  it,  or  so  I 

thought.     But  Wiles,  he  only  laughed,  funny  like, 

80 


LONDON  LAVENDER  81 

and  wouldn't  hear  of  it.  'Leave  it  to  me,'  he  kep' 
on  saying.  And  what  do  you  think  ?  Yesterday  the 
baby  came ;  and  what  do  you  think  it  is  ?  Why,  not 
a  Christian  at  all,  but  a  baby  chimpanzee.  I'll  admit 
it's  not  a  monkey;  that's  something  gained;  but  I 
don't  know  how  to  hold  me  head  up,  all  the  same. 
Look  at  the  degrasion  of  it !  What  can  the  neigh- 
bours say  ?  Because  of  course  they'll  think  it's  just 
a  monkey.  And  in  our  position  !  Here  we  are,  come 
into  money  and  moving  into  a  nice  house,  with  a 
servant,  and  getting  rid  of  the  Zoo  and  all  its  fleas 
once  and  for  ever,  as  I  thought,  and  now  to  have 
it  all  beginning  again  and  another  of  those  creatures 
brought  into  the  very  house  where  we  eat  and  sleep : 
that  is  if  ever  I,  for  one,  will  sleep  again  !  Never  did 
I  think  to  see  my  own  back-kitchen  a  menagerie." 

At  this  moment  Wiles  came  in,  looking  a  little  self- 
conscious,  but  important  too.  "Ah,"  he  said,  "I  can 
see  what  the  missis  has  been  saying,  but  don't  you 
take  any  notice  of  her.  She'll  be  all  right.  Come 
and  see  my  Lou,"  and  he  led  us  to  the  back-kitchen, 
where  a  timid  and  distrustful  chimpanzee  huddled 
in  a  corner.  "That's  her,  that's  my  Lou,"  he  said. 
"That's  our  adopted  child,  ma'am.  She's  got  a 
touch  of  bronchitis,  I'm  afraid,  and  I've  been  getting 
some  medicine.  But  she  ought  to  be  all  right  here, 
with  me  to  look  after  her.  Why,  I  feel  another  man 
already.     Something  to  do  again." 

Lou  was  a  picture  of  melancholy  and  suspicion  as 
her  new  father  poured  out  a  spoonful  of  the  linctus ; 


82  LONDON  LAVENDER 

but  it  was  syrupy  and  she  took  it  with  pleas- 
ure. "There,"  he  said,  as  she  finished  the  dose, 
"my  little  girl  isn't  going  to  die  of  pneumonia.  She's 
going  to  get  strong  and  learn  some  good  tricks,  isn't 
she  ?  " 

"Tricks  ! "  said  Mrs.  Wiles.  "You  know  what  that 
means :  shaking  hands,  eating  with  a  spoon,  pre- 
tending to  read  the  paper.  Nothing  worth  doing. 
Nothing  like  a  nice  little  orphan  girl  who  would  be 
a  companion  and  a  pleasure  to  us  and  go  to  a  cinema 
now  and  then.     I'm  so  disappointed." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "there's  time.  It's  only  Wiles 
having  his  adopted  child  first.  Your  turn  next. 
That's  fair,  isn't  it,  Wiles  ?  " 

"We'll  leave  it  at  that  for  the  present,"  said  Wiles, 
pointing  to  an  illuminated  card  on  the  wall.  "That's 
our  motto,"  he  added. 

I  am  always  attracted  by  stories  of  what  might  be 
called  beneficent  error,  and  this  gesture  of  Wiles's  gave 
me  a  perfect  example.  To  my  eyes  and  to  ninety- 
nine  observers  out  of  a  hundred  the  device,  which 
ran  thus, 


B  9  W 


represented  nothing  in  the  world  but  the  text,  "No 
Cross,  no  Crown."  Judge,  then,  of  my  astonishment 
when  Mrs.  Wiles  supplemented  her  husband's  remark 
by  saying:  "Yes,  we've  had  a  lot  of  comfort  out  of 
those  words  in  our  day.     '  Not  now.'   Later,  it'll  be  all 


LONDON  LAVENDER  83 

right.  There's  a  better  time  coming.  But  it  isn't  quite 
ripe  yet,  so  pull  yourselves  together  and  wait  cheerfully. 
Wiles  had  it  given  him  by  an  aunt  of  his,  who  was  a 
very  pious  body,  and  it  always  puzzled  us  why  she 
shouldn't  have  sent  something  more  religious.  But, 
as  it  happens,  nothing  religious  could  have  helped  us 
more,  could  it,  Wiles  ?     'Not  now.' " 

Naturally  I  said  nothing  to  them  about  it,  but  I 
have  been  wondering  since  what  difference  it  would 
have  made  had  they  known  all  along  that  "No  Cross, 
no  Crown"  was  the  true  reading.  Once  they  accepted 
the  full  meaning  of  the  phrase,  none,  I  suppose ;  for 
"No  Cross,  no  Crown"  and  "Not  now"  come  to  mean 
the  same  thing  in  the  end.  But  it  is  an  amusing 
confusion,  and  not  the  least  amusing  part  of  it  is  the 
circumstance  that  two  poets  at  any  rate  have  toiled 
to  combine  words  that  would  convey  the  same  ideas, 
while  all  the  time  such  a  commonplace  and  terse 
locution  as  "Not  now"  could  have  done  it  all.  For 
what  more  does  Pope's  famous  couplet  say: 

Hope  springs  eternal  in  the  human  breast, 
Man  never  is,  but  always  to  be,  blest? 

or  "  Rabbi  Ben  Ezra's  "  beautiful  line : 

Grow  old  along  with  me:  the  best  is  yet  to  be? 


CHAPTER  XII 

IN  WHICH  THE  FIRST-FLOOR-FRONT  UNFOLDS 
AND  SOME  OF  THE  SECRETS  OF  A  REMARK- 
ABLE INDUSTRY  ARE  LAID   BARE 

MR.  LACEY  has  now  introduced  me  to  Mr. 
Furley,  with  whom  he  divides  the  first  floor, 
and  whom  we  hear  moving  restlessly  about  overhead 
at  all  hours.  On  my  mentioning  this  habit  to  him  he 
said  that  he  always  walked  when  he  was  inventing. 
Asked  what  he  was  inventing,  he  said  film  stories. 
For  Mr.  Furley  not  only  makes  pictures  of  real 
events,  which  is  the  staple  of  his  odd  business,  but 
devises  dramas  too.  He  has  bought  an  estate  near 
London,  in  Essex,  where  walled  gardens  with  fine 
trees  in  them  are  so  plentiful  and  cheap,  and  here 
he  has  erected  a  huge  crystal  palace  for  indoor  pho- 
tography as  well  as  having  natural  surroundings  for 
open-air  episodes.  Here,  too,  he  has  formed  a  stock 
company  of  actors  and  actresses  to  perform  his  plays. 

Mr.  Furley  sent  a  message  in  one  fine  morning  to 
say  that  he  had  a  drama  in  the  making  that  day,  and 
would  I  like  to  see  it.  I  said  I  would,  and  we  were 
soon  dashing  off  to  his  suburb  in  his  motor-car. 

We  turned  into  the  gateway  of  his  estate,  and  there 

84  ' 


LONDON  LAVENDER  85 

among  the  trees  was  a  Red  Indian  encampment  with 
a  number  of  tethered  horses  - —  only  a  few  yards  from  a 
busy  High  Street  with  electric  trams  in  it.  Cowboys 
on  ponies  waited  near  by,  and  an  excited  manager 
was  shouting  through  a  megaphone  while  the  camera 
clicked  off  its  myriad  impressions.  The  whole  effect 
was  strangely  bizarre,  and  I  must  admit  it  struck  me 
as  desperately  silly.  At  least  it  seemed  desperately 
silly  that  in  a  few  days'  time  thousands  of  my  country- 
men all  over  England,  and  later,  thousands  of  people 
all  over  the  rest  of  the  world,  were  going  to  pay 
to  have  their  feelings  worked  up  by  such  cynically 
manufactured  heroics. 

"I  had  no  idea,"  I  said,  "that  these  cowboy  dramas 
were  made  in  England." 

"Bless  your  heart,  why  not?"  said  Mr.  Furley. 
"Nearly  everything  can  be  done  in  England.  A 
background  of  trees  in  Essex  is  enough  like  a  back- 
ground of  trees  in  Texas  to  satisfy  most  people. 
It's  the  movement  and  the  humanity  that  they  look 
at ;  they  don't  criticize.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  cin- 
ema won't  let  them— it's  too  hypnotic.    It  lulls  you." 

The  cowboys  having  done  their  scene,  a  cardboard 
room  was  quickly  erected  and  the  unhappy  heroine 
sat  in  it  to  receive  a  visit  from  a  drunken  lover  whom 
she  was  to  reclaim  from  whisky.  There  were  but  three 
walls,  and  the  two  side  ones  were  set  at  an  obtuse  angle 
to  the  back. 

"You  wouldn't  think  when  you  see  these  things  on 
the  screen,"  said  Mr.  Furley,  "that  the  fourth  wall  is 


86  LONDON  LAVENDER 

the  world  itself,  with  the  camera  in  the  midst.  We 
build  up  the  three  walls  in  the  open  air  for  the  most 
part,  and  keep  the  actors  in  focus  by  means  of  those 
long  strips  of  wood  on  the  ground,  over  which  they 
mustn't  step.  When  they  are  ready  we  take  them, 
but  they  have  been  rehearsing  a  long  time.  Some 
words,  you  notice,  are  being  spoken  or  the  time  would 
be  wrong  and  the  actions  wouldn't  fit ;  we  don't  ask 
them  to  learn  anything  by  heart,  but  merely  get  the 
sense.  No  actor  need  ever  retire  into  private  life  any 
more  because  his  memory  or  voice  has  gone:]  the 
cinema  will  employ  him. 

"There's  nothing  you  can't  do  with  the  cinema,"  he 
said.  "For  instance,  suppose  I  want  to  show  you 
run  over  by  a  steam-roller.  I  could  do  it  so  thoroughly 
as  to  make  your  wife  shriek.  First  of  all,  I  place 
you  here  and  then  the  roller  advances  on  you.  I 
take  photographs  until  the  roller  touches  you.  Then 
I  stop  the  camera,  lay  on  the  floor  a  dummy  figure, 
and  take  the  roller  advancing  over  that.  I  stop 
the  camera  again  and  place  on  the  floor  a  brown- 
paper  shape  like  a  pressed-out  man  and  I  take  the 
roller  just  passing  off  that.  Then  a  lot  of  people  crowd 
in,  and  I  stop  it  while  you  take  your  place  on  the 
ground  in  the  middle  of  them,  and  then  I  turn  the 
wheel  again  and  we  see  you  restored  to  life.  When 
the  picture  is  exhibited  it  runs  straight  on  as  if  there 
had  been  no  breaks  at  all ;  but  the  breaks  do  it.  It's 
the  art  of  leaving  out.  The  camera's  good  for  any- 
thing ;  it's  the  new  ideas  that  we  want. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  87 

"Another  thing  we  want  is  English  actors  and 
actresses  with  a  sense  of  gesture.  The  idiots,  they 
stand  there  and  deliver  their  speeches  as  if  they  were 
posts,  and  how  do  you  suppose  that  comes  out  on  the 
film  ?  The  result  is  that  we  have  to  get  foreigners 
for  all  the  best  plays  —  Italians  first  of  all  —  because 
they  move  their  hands  while  they  are  speaking  and 
convey  their  meaning.  Our  own  actors  can  do 
certain  things  all  right,  but  not  the  best  emotional 
things,  and  the  result  is  I'm  now  writing  a  series  of 
purely  English  plays  where  only  English  stolidity  is 
needed.     Then  they'll  be  at  home." 

Mr.  Furley  showed  me  how  some  of  the  trick  films 
are  made.  For  example,  one  in  which  a  box  of 
bricks  opened  automatically,  the  bricks  came  out  and 
built  themselves  into  a  house,  and  then  unbuilt  them- 
selves and  returned  to  the  box. 

"It's  on  the  single  picture  principle,"  he  said. 
"One  picture  at  a  time  and  then  they're  reeled  off  as 
if  they  were  taken  continuously,  like  views  of  the 
opening  of  Parliament  and  so  forth.  Suppose  this 
is  the  box  of  bricks  and  you  want  that  brick  to  come 
out  of  it  by  itself  and  stand  itself  on  end.  You  take 
a  piece  of  thread  so  fine  as  to  be  invisible  and  fasten 
it  to  the  brick.  Then  you  lift  the  brick  an  infini- 
tesimal way  and  that  is  photographed ;  a  little  more, 
and  another  photograph ;  a  little  more,  and  another ; 
and  so  on.  Perhaps  before  that  brick  is  on  end  sixty 
separate  pictures  have  had  to  be  made,  and  so  on 
with  the  others.     The  film  may  take  five  minutes  to 


88  LONDON  LAVENDER 

exhibit;    and  it  has  required  two  weeks  of  ten-hour 
days  to  make. 

"Historical  scenes  are  still  popular  in  some  places/' 
he  said.  "But  you  have  to  be  careful  how  you  do 
them.  The  public  doesn't  want  them  exact,  but 
exact  in  the  way  it  has  always  thought  of  them. 
For  instance,  I  wanted  to  do  an  execution  of  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots,  so  I  went  to  the  British  Museum  to 
see  contemporary  pictures.  But  do  you  think  I 
could  use  them?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  The  public, 
accustomed  to  think  of  Mary  as  they  have  seen  her 
in  so  many  modern  paintings,  wouldn't  have  stood  it. 
So  I  went  to  the  modern  painters  instead  and  got 
some  good  ideas.  But  it  isn't  the  real  thing.  Exe- 
cutions are  always  popular.  The  women  like  it. 
And  a  sad  story  —  Jane  Shore,  Amy  Robsart,  the 
Princes  in  the  Tower,  Charles  the  First  —  you  can't 
go  wrong  with  those. 

"But  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  hold  that  whatever  you 
give  thej  public  now  will  do,  because  they've  got  the 
cinema  habit.  The  films  change  every  Monday  and 
Thursday  in  most  halls.  Well,  every  Monday  and 
every  Thursday  you  see  the  same  people  roll  up.  If 
it's  a  good  set,  they  tell  their  friends  it's  good  and 
perhaps  come  again  themselves.  If  it's  a  bad  set 
they  say  nothing  but  hope  for  better  luck  next  time. 
The  one  thing  they  can't  do  is  to  stay  away.  The 
cinema's  got  them." 

As  I  looked  over  this  strange  place  and  heard  Mr. 
Furley's  explanations,  ideas  as  to  the  further  possi- 


LONDON  LAVENDER  89 

bilities  of  the  cinema  crowded  into  my  mind.  Its 
educational  advantages,  for  example,  are  remarkable, 
and  a  day  will  certainly  come  when  most  schools  will 
have  a  machine  for  exhibiting  films.  The  most 
delicate  physiological  processes  can  be  recorded:  the 
evolution  of  the  butterfly  from  the  egg ;  the  hatching 
of  chickens ;  and  so  forth  —  all  making  a  biology 
lesson  as  fascinating  as  a  romance.  Every  science 
can  in  fact  be  humanized  by  this  invention,  and  school 
children  actually  see  the  world  in  the  act  of  growing. 
My  own  particular  hobby  just  now,  too  —  folk 
dancing  —  how  easily  the  cinema  could  help  that,  by 
reproducing  the  steps  and  movements  so  exactly  as 
to  make  teachers  almost  unnecessary. 

Geography  again  —  how  vastly  more  entertaining  a 
lesson  would  be  if  the  scholar  was  taken  for  a  short 
trip  through  the  country  that  was  under  examina- 
tion. London  in  the  early  days  of  the  cinema  had 
several  halls  where  only  scenery  was  shown;  and 
they  were  very  popular.  To-day  the  taste  has  de- 
clined and  everyone  wants  melodrama.  But  those 
old  topographical  films  are  not  lost  and  they  would 
be  priceless  for  quickening  the  imagination  of  the 
young  at  school. 

I  made  some  of  these  suggestions  to  Mr.  Furley, 
but  he  was  not  enthusiastic.  He  is  a  serious  man 
with  taste,  but  he  does  not  let  that  interfere  with  his 
business.  "In  our  trade,"  he  said,  "you  must  give 
the  public  what  they  want.  People  like  you  come  to 
me  and  say,  'Why  don't  you  raise  the  tone  of  the 


90  LONDON  LAVENDER 

films  and  make  them  more  instructive  ?  '  But  I  want 
to  retire,  and  in  order  to  do  that  I  must  make  money. 
I  used  to  have  a  notion  once  that  I  would  be  ahead 
of  the  time,  but  I've  given  that  up.  The  fact  is,  the 
cinema  managers  who  buy  my  films  won't  let  me. 
They  decide  what  the  public  want,  or  the  public  want 
what  they  decide:  I'm  not  sure  which  it  is,  but 
whichever  it  is,  there's  no  chance  for  much  that  isn't 
vulgar.  After  the  real  events,  and  now  and  then  a 
landscape  film,  everything  has  to  be  either  passionate 
or  comic." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "the  time  must  surely  come,  and 
soon,  when  the  cinema  will  begin  to  need  brains. 
All  this  sham  stuff  will  fatigue  and  the  real  thing  will 
have  a  chance.  If  you  take  my  advice  you  will  try 
to  be  in  the  van.  As  it  is,  I  feel  sure  that  London 
could  stand  one  hall  at  any  rate  where  something  bet- 
ter was  given.  There  are  such  possibilities.  Satire, 
for  example,  never  had  such  an  ally.  Think  how 
deadly  at  political  meetings  could  a  film  be  which 
depicted  the  rival  candidate  in  ridiculous  situations  ! 
Think  of  what  Socialism  might  gain  from  a  series  of 
views  of  the  stately  homes  of  England  and  their  idle 
plutocratic  owners  at  play  !  Think  of  the  way  in 
which  the  cinema  could  fortify  and  supplement  the 
work  of  the  illustrated  papers  !  No,  you  are  only 
just  beginning,  and  it  is  absurd  for  you  to  talk  of 
retiring  yet.  For  every  ten  camera  films  you  make, 
to  satisfy  the  stupid  public,  you  ought  to  make  one 
good  one  for  your  conscience's  sake." 


LONDON  LAVENDER  91 

But  Mr.  Furley  only  laughed.  "You  don't  know 
the  ignorant  buyers  I  have  to  deal  with,"  he  said. 

"Then  open  theatres  of  your  own,"  I  urged. 

"Not  for  anything,"  he  replied.  "No,  I  want  to 
get  out  of  it  all.  It's  getting  on  my  nerves.  I  can't 
sleep.  My  eyes  have  turned  into  lenses  and  my 
brain  into  a  camera,  and  I  see  everything  like  that. 
Nothing  but  farming  will  do  me  any  good,  and  I 
want  to  get  to  my  farm  as  soon  as  I  can]  and  stop 
there.  When  I'm  talking  to  people  —  as  it  might  be 
you  now  —  I  find  myself  all  ready  to  swear  at  them 
for  not  being  more  animated.  I  search  the  papers 
for  the  death  of  kings,  because  there's  nothing  so 
popular  as  royal  funerals.     I'm  a  lost  soul." 

No  one  who  has  not  gone  into  the  matter  has  any 
notion  of  what  an  industry  has  sprung  up  around  the 
cinema.  There  is  first  of  all  the  photographer,  who 
must  be  supplied  with  materials,  not  the  least  of 
which  is,  annually,  many  miles  of  celluloid  film. 
This  film  has  to  be  made,  and  factories  came  into 
being  to  do  nothing  but  make  it.  Passing  over  the 
other  photographic  accessories,  we  come  to  the  build- 
ings, where  the  dramas  are  enacted,  the  actors  who 
perform,  the  costumes,  horses,  motor-cars,  and  scenery 
which  they  require,  and  the  managers  who  rehearse 
them  —  often  day  after  day  for  hours  before  the  few 
minutes  occupied  by  the  final  photography.  Then 
the  development  and  reproduction  of  the  film,  its  sale 
to  various  syndicates  that  control  the  cinema  shows 
of  the  world,  and  its  exhibition  in  the  theatres  them- 


02 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


selves,  all  day  long,  for  three  days  only,  in  each,  for 
the  delectation  of  the  thousands  of  spectators.  And 
the  whole  thing  isn't  more  than  fourteen  years  old. 

I  made  some  remark  to  this  effect. 

"Oh,"  said  Mr.  Furley,  "the  cinema  industry's 
nothing  here  compared  with  America.  There  they 
take  it  seriously.  Expensive  actors  and  actresses 
are  retained,  large  tracts  of  country  are  rented,  and 
the  activity  is  prodigious.  In  Italy  and  France  too 
they  pay  immense  salaries  to  their  funny  men  and 
huge  fees  to  dramatists  to  devise  scenarios.  Here 
we  pay  next  to  nothing,  and  if  possible  nothing  at 
all.  One  can  get  all  the  plots  we  want  out  of  our 
heads  or  old  novelettes.  I  have  a  man  always  at 
work  reading  old  novelettes  for  plots." 

England,  my  England  ! 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IN  WHICH  MRS.  DUCKIE  DISCUSSES  THE  DUTIES 
OF  LIFE,  AND  MR.  BEMERTON  INTRODUCES 
ME  TO  CERTAIN  VILLAGE  PESSIMISTS 

FOR  old  sake's  sake  I  look  in  now  and  then  on 
Mr.  Bemerton  and  bring  away  a  book,  and 
recently  I  exchanged  a  few  words  with  Mrs.  Duckie, 
who  is  now  very  lonely  by  day,  Be-trice  having  gone 
on  to  the  music-hall  stage  under  the  name  of  Lazie 
Glee,  a  serio-comic  singer,  and  Ern  having  thrown  up 
a  situation  in  a  garage  in  order  to  join  a  troupe  in 
the  same  profession  who  are  known  as  "The  Four 

Uglies." 

Mrs.  Duckie  naturally  began  by  asking  after  my 
young  lady.  "The  pretty  dear,"  she  said,  "I  hope 
she's  well,  and  that  you're  comfortable  where  you  are. 
Sorry  we  were  to  lose  you.  And  are  there  any  little 
ones  ?'  Not  yet  —  but  there  will  be,  I  hope  and  trust. 
Such  a  sweet  lady  and  such  a  nice  gentleman,  it 
would  be  a  sin  not  to  have  any.  So  many  people 
to-day  aren't  having  any,  and  I  call  it  a  crying 
shame.  But  you're  not  like  that.  There  must  be 
one  little  Master  Falconer  at  any  rate,  if  not  two, 

93 


94 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


and  a  little  Miss  Falconer  as  well.  One  of  each  is 
best.  Single  children  get  spoiled  and  too  clever  too : 
no  give-and-take  and  always  hearing  their  parents 
talk;  not  good  for  a  child.  No,  a  noisy  nursery  is 
best,  with  a  good  quarrel  now  and  then.  That's  the 
way  to  make  men  and  women.  The  next  time  you 
call  I  hope  you'll  be  able  to  bring  the  good  news," 
the  honest  creature  concluded. 

She  went  on- — without  interruption — to  talk  of  her 
own  family.  "Why  all  my  children  should  be  so 
bitten  by  the  music  halls  I  can't  think,"  she  remarked 
mournfully.  "I  never  cared  for  the  places  myself, 
and  my  husband  is  all  for  serious  music  when  he 
gets  the  chance ;  while  their  grandfather  on  their 
father's  side  was  a  local  preacher,  and  my  father, 
God  bless  him,  as  quiet  a  man  as  you'd  find  any- 
where, and  so  little  ear  that  he  didn't  know  the  'Old 
Hundredth'  from  'Home,  Sweet  Home.'  It  just 
shows  what  a  wonderful  thing  this  heredity  is.  I 
suppose  there  must  have  been  someone  in  the  family 
somewhere  who  was  more  skittish.  Of  course  one 
never  knows  all  about  anyone.  Perhaps  Duckie's 
father  sang  a  bit  loose  before  he  took  to  religion." 

"Your  mother  didn't  sing?"  I  asked. 

"No,  bless  her  heart,  she  didn't.  But  I've  heard 
her  say,  now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  that  her  mother 
was  famous  in  'Sir  Roger.'  Perhaps  that's  where  it 
all  started.  But  it  makes  me  very  unhappy.  There's 
Be-trice  now,  these  two  houses  a  night  just  wear  her 
out.    And  Ern  calling  himself  an  '  Ugly/  it's  dreadful. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  95 

Such  a  pretty  child  as  he  was  too,  with  fair  curls 
down  to  his  shoulders.  I  don't  know  what  the  world's 
coming  to." 

I  asked  after  Mr.  Duckie. 

"He's  very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Duckie,  "but  tired. 
Always  on  his  poor  feet,  you  know.  He's  got  a 
great  idea  of  finding  someone  with  a  little  money  to 
join  him  in  starting  an  eating-house  of  his  own,  and 
though  of  course  it's  very  risky  I  almost  wish  he 
could ;  for  he's  getting  on  in  years  and  it's  a  shame 
he  should  spend  his  whole  life  in  making  money  for 
someone  else.  I  wonder  if  you  know  of  anyone  with 
a  little  capital,  sir?" 

"I'll  think  about  it,"  I  said,  at  once  remembering 
both  the  unoccupied  Mr.  Wiles  and  Lacey's  cold 
chop  scheme. 

Mr.  Bemerton  was  somewhat  depressed  too.  Old- 
book  buying,  he  said,  was  declining  steadily.  Re- 
prints were  hitting  him  very  hard,  but  the  love  of 
pleasure  harder.  People  spent  their  money  now  on 
entertainment  and  food,  where  they  once  used  not 
only  to  dine  at  home  but  sit  at  home  all  the  evening 
reading.  Now  if  they  sat  at  home  they  played 
bridge.  He  wouldn't  be  so  pessimistic  as  to  say 
that  England  was  going  to  the  dogs,  but  he  would 
like  to  see  something  happen  to  make  us  pull  our- 
selves together.  His  niece,  Miss  Waghorn,  had  left 
him.  Married  a  mild  young  man  in  a  hosier's,  ten 
years  her  junior,  and  the  pair  of  them  reminded  Mr. 
Bemerton  of  nothing  so  much  as  a  cruet:    oil  and 


96  LONDON  LAVENDER 

vinegar.  "But  I  dare  say  they'll  mix,"  he  said. 
"They  met  in  a  lodging-house  at  Margate:  nothing 
like  such  places  to  settle  one's  hash.  With  no  home 
comforts  one  gets  desperate  for  company,  and  then 
Cupid  begins  to  shoot. 

"I've  got  a  little  book  for  you,"  said  Mr.  Bemerton, 
"  that  I've  been  keeping  till  you  came  in.  A  privately 
printed  one.  It  would  be  too  much  to  say  that  they 
are  the  best  books,  but  they  often  have  a  quality  that 
the  others  haven't.  Sometimes  of  course  they're 
merely  the  result  of  vanity,  but  here  and  there,  as  in 
the  present  case,  they  contain  a  very  special  kind  of 
record,  such  as  a  modest  observer  with  a  humorous 
sense  of  character  might  like  to  preserve  for  her 
friends  but  not  wish  the  world  at  large  to  see,  lest 
perhaps  some  of  the  simple  folk  described  in  the 
pages  might  get  to  know  of  it  and  be  hurt." 

Mr.  Bemerton,  who  had  been  turning  a  little 
volume  over  and  over  in  his  hands  all  this  time,  while 
mine  were  stretched  out  and  withdrawn  and  again 
outstretched  to  take  it,  here  opened  it. 

"It's  the  modestest  little  thing,"  he  said.  "Just  a 
few  pages  of  talk  among  villagers  in  the  Midlands ; 
but  it's  a  jewel  of  literature.  Among  its  very  great 
admirers  when  it  appeared  was  Mr.  Gladstone.  Now, 
I've  only  one  copy  and  I  can't  get  another ;  but  I'll 
lend  it  to  you.  You  must  treat  it  as  if  it  were  a 
black  pearl." 

I  have  done  so  and  allowed  no  one  but  Naomi  to 
see  it.    It  is  a  strange  little  book  and  might  well 


LONDON  LAVENDER  97 

cease  to  be  private,  although  one  likes  to  think  of  a 
few  good  things  being  withheld  from  the  world  at 
large.  Miss  A.,  the  author  or  recorder  of  these  con- 
versations, was  an  invalid  lady  living  in  the  country, 
to  whom  her  humble  neighbours  were  a  perpetual  joy ; 
she  helped  them,  she  sympathized  with  them,  and  she 
laughed  at  their  little  foibles  afterwards.  In  these 
pages  she  has  preserved  certain  of  their  odd  speeches, 
the  period  being  chiefly  early  in  the  eighteen  sixties. 
But  the  type  is  eternal. 

Although  we  meet  several  characters  in  the  book, 
most  of  them  have  a  family  resemblance  in  that  they 
have  had  a  hard  time,  and  expect  nothing  better, 
and  do  not  always  make  the  best  of  it.  No  doubt 
Miss  A.  had  neighbours  who  were  more  optimistic  or 
less  sardonic ;  but  to  her  these  did  not  appeal  as 
those  others  did.  All  artists  have  preferences  in 
types,  and  the  humorous  grumbler  was  hers.  But  it 
is  not  discontent  that  gives  this  little  book  its  unity ; 
it  is  marriage.  Almost  every  page  touches  upon  that 
imperfect  state,  so  that  by  the  end  an  impressionable 
reader  would  as  soon  think  of  entering  the  bonds  as  of 
sitting  voluntarily  in  the  electrocuting  chair ;  that  is, 
if  marriage  did  not  chance  to  be  the  one  hazard  in  the 
world  from  which  no  one  person  can  withhold  another. 

Here  are  Miss  A.  and  Mary  Powell,  a  labourer's 
wife,  together,  in  Mary  Powell's  cottage,  as  reported 
by  Miss  A. : 

Miss  A .  "How  have  you  and  John  agreed  together 
since  I  left  Bewley  ?  " 

H 


98  LONDON  LAVENDER 

Mary.  "Well,  ma'am,  those  words  of  yours  when 
we  parted  have  hacted  very  well.  'Mary,'  says  you, 
'  when  John's  in  a  bad  temper  you  be  in  a  good  'un ; 
for  it's  both  on  you  being  in  a  bad  temper  together  as 
does  the  mischief.'  So  mony  a  time  when  he's  con- 
traried  me  I've  said  to  myself,  'Now  I'll  be  on  Miss 
A.'s  plan;'  and  we've  had  nothing  but  bits  of  houts 
since  —  never  no  fighting  —  and  a  very  good  thing 
we've  left  it  off.  For,  ye  see,  a  man's  hand  falls  very 
heavy  on  a  woman,  and  mony  a  time  I've  been  black 
and  blue ;  only  he  was  a  deal  more  careful  where  he 
hit  me  at  after  he  had  that  seven-and-sixpence  to  pay 
for  them  leeches  to  my  side.  You  remember  it,  don't 
you,  ma'am?  I'd  been  saying  summat  again  his 
mother  —  he  calls  her  all  to  pieces  himself,  only  he 
wunna  let  me  —  so  he  knocked  me  hoff  the  chair,  and 
it  caused  himplamation ;  and  fine  and  foolish  John 
looked  when  the  doctor  shook  his  head  at  him.  But 
he  niver  said  he  was  sorry ;  he's  too  stupid  for  that." 

Miss  A.  "Have  you  taken  my  advice  on  the  other 
point  —  about  going  to  church  ?" 

Mary.  "Well,  ma'am,  I  did  go  twice  after  my 
brother  died ;  but  I  can  scarce  ever  find  time,  betwixt 
waiting  on  the  cow,  and  the  pig,  and  John  —  and  he 
taks  as  much  as  t'other  two  put  together;  he  won't 
so  much  as  reach  out  his  hand  to  reach  hisself  a  cup 
or  a  saucer.  I  gets  up  at  four  o'clock  on  Sundays 
to  milk  cow,  and  then  there's  John's  boots  to  be 
blacked,  and  a  deal  of  mud  scraped  off  'em  first,  and 
breakfast  to  get  in  time  for  him  to  go  to  chapel  at 


LONDON  LAVENDER  99 

nine  (and  he  scolds  me  finely  if  he's  late),  and  then 
pig  to  be  fed  and  our  dinner  to  get.  I  said  to  John 
one  Sunday,  when  he'd  been  saying,  'Woman,  thou' It 
go  to  Fire  and  Brimstone  as  sure  as  thou'rt  born,  for 
thou  niver  goest  to  church  nor  chapel;'  'Very  well,' 
says  I,  'then  thou  must  feed  pig  thyself  to-day.'  'I'll 
let  him  starve  first,'  says  John ;  and,  sure  enough,  pig 
would  have  starved  if  I  had  na'  crep  out  at  night 
to  feed  him.  So  when  I  come  back  I  thought  I'd 
have  it  out  wi'  John,  so  I  says,  'I'm  not  a  bit  likelier 
to  go  to  Fire  and  Brimstone  than  thou  art,  with  all 
thy  blaating  and  praying ;  and  as  for  them  Methodies, 
I  hates  'em,  with  all  them  collections,  sixpence  here 
and  sixpence  there ;  and  I  have  read  in  a  book  that 
John  Wesley  did  not  improve  of  their  axing  folks  for 
money.'  So  John  says  quite  scornful,  'I  wonder 
where  you  got  that  much  laming,  woman.'  'When  I 
had  the  hopportunity,'  I  says  quite  scornful  back 
again.  You  know,  Miss  A.,  I'd  read  it  in  a  book  as 
was  full  of  all  manner  of  things  about  railroads  and 
such  like.  I  suppose,  ma'am,  you've  seen  London 
Bridge.  Eh  !  dear,  what  a  place  it  must  be  !  They 
say  the  railway  carriages,  and  carriages  and  cabs  with 
horses,  are  all  running  together  upon  the  rails,  and 
it's  nothing  but  them  pints  as  keeps  them  from  all 
being  smashed  together." 

Again,  two  years  later  : 

Miss  A.     "How  have  you  and  John  been  getting 


on  since  I  saw  you  ? 


ioo  LONDON  LAVENDER 

Mary.  "Pretty  well ;  indeed,  I  darsna  fly  into  them 
passions;  the  doctor  says  it'll  be  present  death  if  I 
do.  Mine  is  the  white  passions  as  drives  the  blood 
hinwards  and  causes  bad  palpulation  at  the  heart. 
Mr.  Walker,  the  doctor,  come  in  one  day  just  as  I'd 
knocked  John  back'ards  at  the  door  for  coming  in 
with  dirty  shoes  just  when  I'd  been  two  hours  on  my 
hands  and  knees  cleaning  the  floor ;  but,  you  know, 
Miss  A.,  a  hot  temper  is  naterally  grounded  in  me. 
My  mother  had  a  hawful  temper;  I've  seen  her 
empty  a  shovel  full  of  hot  ashes  on  my  father's  head. 
Now,  I  won't  say  but  what  I've  thrown  a  ash  or  two 
at  John,  but  they've  been  could  'uns ;  and  one  day  my 
mother  snatched  up  a  gown  as  I  had  been  buying  for 
myself,  and  put  it  on  the  fire,  and  her  said,  'There 
now,  and  next  time  I'll  put  you  on  the  fire  too,  if 
you  buy  finery  without  my  jurydiction.'  Eh  !  how  I 
cried  when  I  see'd  them  beautiful  pink  and  yallow 
stripes  kindling;  but  her  was  a  good  mother  at  the 
root  for  all  her  was  so  strict ;  and  when  I  sees  girls 
nowadays  fithered  and  flounced  up,  and  pomped  out 
so  as  when  they  comes  swelling  along  one's  obliged 
to  get  out  o'  the  road,  I  often  thinks  to  myself,  it's  a 
pity  there's  not  some  mothers  in  Bewley  like  mine. 
John  often  says  to  me,  'Thou'rt  the  very  model  of 
thy  mother,  Mary,  temper  and  all.'  'Yes,  John,'  says 
I,  '  and  didn't  her  warn  thee  that  I'd  a  foul  temper ; 
and  didn't  thee  say,  like  a  big  fool,  "I  wull  have  her, 
temper  and  all."  Thou  conceitedst  thou  couldst 
master  me,  but  thou  hast  larnt  different.'     'I  have 


LONDON  LAVENDER  101 

that/  said  John.  He  often  fetches  texes  out  of 
Scripture  about  women  doing  their  juries,  to  clench 
me  with,  and  he  knows  it  taks  me  a  long  time  to  pick 
out  a  tex  to  clench  him  with.  There  was  no  natteral 
schools  whin  I  was  yong." 

The  next  year : 

Mary.  "I  hope  you're  better  of  the  lombagger, 
Miss  A.  John  had  it  wunst,  and  he  was  cured  with 
some  stuff  he  got  gracious  from  Doctor  Woods;  it 
was  uncommon  strong,  for  he  could  feel  it  playing 
back'ards  and  forrards  about  his  heart  afore  it  went 
down.  John's  mother  is  dead  at  last,  but  she  lay 
a  long  while ;  you  know  sick  folks  canna  go  hoff 
unless  they're  kept  nice  and  clean;  I'll  be  ound 
her'd  have  died  a  deal  sooner  if  I'd  had  the  tending 
of  he*,  because  I  should  ^Iways  have  been  fettling  and 
washing -of  her.  "For 'all  her VI  heen  so  wicked,  her 
died ;  lie  a  good -'un  and  feaid  her  was  going  to 
Glory;  but  I'm  partly  of  ■your-  opinyan,  Miss  A., 
that  according  as  folks  live,  so  they'll  die." 

So  much  for  Mary  Powell.  Now  for  Anne 
Williams : 

Miss  A.  "I  think  you  seem  as  cheerful  as  ever." 
Anne.  "Yes  !  as  Mary  James  says,  I'm  always  at 
the  top  o'  the  tree,  and  so  I  ought  to  be,  for  the 
Lord  has  been  very  good  to  me.  You  would  not 
have  conceited  as  He  would  listen  to  the  prayers 
of  a  poor  hignorant  woman  like  me,  but  I've  pruven 


102  LONDON  LAVENDER 

as  He  did;  for  many  a  time  as  my  husband  has 
rampaged  out  of  the  house  door  like  a  Hon,  I've 
felled  on  my  knees,  and  he's  come  back  like  a  lamb. 
I  never  used  to  tell  him  what  it  was  as  had  peacified 
him,  because  I  knew  that  'ud  cause  him  to  break 
out  worse  till  ever;  and  now  when  he's  a  bit  for 
wrangling,  I  only  just  say,  'Daniel,  we  wasn't  paired 
to  tear  up  one  another's  minds,  but  to  live  comfortable.' 
I  should  like  you  to  see  my  youngest  girl ;  she's  not 
out  o'  the  way  handsome,  for  you  know,  ma'am,  I'm 
hard-featured,  and  Daniel  is  long-featured  (though 
he  looks  pretty  well  when  he's  tidied  up  a  bit),  but 
she  has  the  loveliest  tongue  for  a  child  of  two  and  a 
half  as  ever  anybody  heard.  Whatever  we  say, 
long  or  short,  she  has  it  in  a  minute,  and  specially 
if  there's  a  bad  word  said  she's  sure, not  to  miss  it; 
and  then,  if  I  hofi'er  to  becc.her.'  he>. '11  oy  out,  'If 
mother  beats  Hemma,  Hemmail  tell  dagMy,  ai:d<tj}en 
daddy '11  beat  moi"he»;':  rcall/,  r\  say « such-  an  ad- 
myrable  little  creatur  is  more  than  nateral.  I  shall 
be  taking  her  with  me  to  chapel  by-and-bye;  we 
attends  the  Primities." 

Miss  A.     " Are  those  the  Ranters ? " 

Anne.  "  Oh!  no,  ma'am,  the  Ranters  jump,  and  the 
Primities  only  shouts.  I  don't  hold  with  jumping 
myself,  though  to  be  sure  wasn't  it  St.  Paul  —  oh 
no,  it  was  King  David  —  as  danced  before  the  ark  ? 
The  shouting  is  a  realality,  depend  upon  it,  Miss  A., 
for  you  know  when  the  facts  of  the  Lord  works  into 
one's  inside  one  cannot  help  but  shout." 


LONDON  LAVENDER  103 

f  The  next  cottage  is  a  stonemason's.     The  stone- 
mason is  ill  and  his  wife  receives  the  visitor : 

"My  husband  is  very  bad  indeed,  ladies;  indeed, 
I  thought  it  was  a  done  job  with  him  last  week, 
and  him  unconvarted  yet.  He  was  very  near  getting 
his  convarsion  last  winter;  he  came  in  from  the 
public  one  Saturday  night  near  ten  o'clock,  and  he 
says  to  me,  'Anne,  it's  plain  enough  thy  prayers  isn't 
strong  enough  for  me,  and  I'm  determined  to  try  what 
they  can  do  for  me  at  Cresbrook  Chapel,  and  we'll 
set  out  this  very  night,  to  be  ready  for  the  meeting 
in  the  morning.'  So  we  set  out,  and  as  we  passed  the 
Nag's  Head  I  could  hear  him  saying,  'Be  off  with 
ye,'  —  that  was  to  the  Devil,  you  know,  ladies.  It 
was  twelve  o'clock  when  we  got  to  Cresbrook  to 
my  mother's;  and  as  soon  as  morning  came  my 
husband  said,  'I'll  go  to  cousin  Jane,  as  has  axed 
me  so  often  to  go  to  chapel,  and  if  her  axes  me 
again,  I'll  go.'  So  he  went,  but  her  never  axed  him, 
so  I  took  it  that  the  Lord  had  not  appinted  this 
time  for  Ned,  so  we  come  home  again,  and  he  soon 
took  to  drink  worse  than  ever;  but  he's  better  to 
me  than  he  used  to  be,  for  when  I  knelt  down  to 
say  my  prayers  he'd  often  pull  me  up  again  by  the 
roots  of  my  hair.  He's  coming  downstairs  now,  ladies. 
Ned,  thou  must  tell  these  ladies  what  ails  thee, 
though  they'll  scarce  understand  such  broad  talk  as 
thine,  but  thou  must  speak  thy  best  and  they'll 
excuse  it." 

Ned.     "The  doctor  says  the  muscles  of  my  liver  is 


104  LONDON  LAVENDER 

set  fast,  and  he  ordered  me  a  hot  sliwer  bath  to 
loosen  'em;  so  I  borrowed  one,  and  while  I  was  in 
it  two  or  three  of  the  neighbours  looked  in,  and  they 
kept  saying,  'Stop  in  a  bit  longer,  lad,  it'll  fatch  the 
grease  out  of  thy  boones ; '  so  I  stopped  and  stopped 
till  I  was  well-nigh  jead,  and  I  have  been  going  worse 
ever  since." 

Miss  A.  "Have  you  been  subject  to  these  attacks 
before?" 

Ned.  "Yes,  ma'am,  since  I  was  a  lad.  I  was 
'prentice  to  my  uncle,  a  stonmason,  and  one  day 
when  I  was  at  the  top  of  a  ladder,  thirty  feet  high, 
me  and  the  big  ston  I  was  carrying  come  down 
together ;  and  when  I  laid  on  the  ground  half-stunned, 
the  first  words  my  uncle  said  was,  'The  ston's  not 
brocken ;  '  he  never  axed  me  if  I  was  hurt,  and  as 
soon  as  I  could  move,  he  said,  'Up  with  it  again, 
lad ; '  so  I  went,  but  afore  I  was  half-way  up  I  fainted 
right  away,  and  fell  to  the  ground  with  the  ston 
atop  of  me  that  time,  and  I  was  in  bed  eleven 
weeks.  My  uncle  was  a  bit  of  a  rogue,  but  he  grew 
to  be  quite  a  big  sort  of  a  man  afterwards,  and 
used  to  ax  me  to  dinner,  and  very  handsome  victuals 
he  set  before  me,  but  I  niver  felt  right  in  the  stomach 
till  I'd  said  summat  about  the  big  ston.  However, 
I  niver  said  much,  for  I  kept  thinking  to  myself, 
'The  words  as  one  has  not  yet  spooken,  one  has  got 
yet  for  to  say.' 


?  ■>■> 


And,  lastly,  here  is  an  old  Welsh  widower : 


LONDON  LAVENDER  105 

Miss  A.  "I  hear  that  you  lost  your  wife  ten  years 
ago.  You  must  have  led  a  sad,  lonely  life  since 
her  death." 

David.  "Quite  the  other  way,  ma'am.  I'd  never 
no  peace  at  all  till  she  went.  I  prayed  to  the  Lord 
night  and  day  for  thirty  years  that  He  would  please 
to  part  us ;  but  I  left  it  to  Him  which  way  it  should 
be.  I  was  quite  ready  to  go  myself ;  but  He  took 
her  at  last,  and  right  thankful  I  was  indeed." 

Miss  A.  "I  suppose  you  were  always  quarrelling  ? " 
David.  "I  had  a  hot  temper  enough  before  I  was 
married;  but  when  I  see  what  an  awful  woman  she 
was,  I  says  to  myself,  'Now,  two  fires  cannot  burn 
together;'  and  I  grew  as  quiet  as  could  be,  and 
never  contraried  her  no  ways.  But  she  was  a  most 
awful  woman ;  indeed,  she  did  throw  a  coffee-pot  just 
off  the  fire  at  my  head  one  day." 

Miss  A.  "I  hope  she  repented  before  she  died." 
David.  "Indeed,  I  don't  know.  I  did  often  say  to 
her  when  she  lay  a-dying,  'My  dear,  I  hope  the 
Lord  will  forgive  your  sins ;  but  I  do  not  know 
as  He  will,  for  you  have  been  a  most  awful  woman 
indeed,  my  dear. 


}  >> 


They  ring  very  true,  these  grumbles,  do  they  not? 
And  they  all  add  to  the  wish  which  so  many 
reflective  persons  must  have  entertained  at  one  time 
or  other,  that  the  Perfect  Man  had  not  narrowed 
His  earthly  experiences  and  diminished  the  variety 
of  His  example  by  remaining  single. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IN  WHICH  A  JOVIAL  PARTY  JOIN  ENGLAND'S 
ANNUAL  SATURNALIA  AND  A  NEW  KNIGHT 
PfflLOSOPHIZES   ON   HIS    GREATNESS 

NAOMI'S  young  friend  Dollie  Heathcote,  who 
goes  everywhere  and  does  all  the  doggy  things, 
as  he  calls  them,  was  so  shocked  to  find  that  I  had 
never  been  to  the  Derby  that,  in  order  to  save  his 
reason,  which  seemed  to  be  tottering  under  the  blow, 
I  said  we  would  accompany  him  there,  on  condition 
that  he  took  care  of  us. 

"Very  well,  then,"  he  said.  "I'll  make  up  a  jolly 
party.     Wow,  wow  !" 

For  some  time  past  he  has  been  including  this 
insane  exclamation  in  most  of  his  remarks.  From 
what  I  can  understand,  the  intention  is  to  signify 
that  the  speaker  is  capable  of  all  —  ready  for  any 
emergency,  and  particularly  a  convivial  one. 

"We  go,  I  suppose,  in  a  hearse,"  I  said,  when  he 
came  to  announce  that  all  the  plans  were  settled. 

"Great  Heavens,  no,"  replied  Dollie.  "That's  all 
over.  We  go  in  a  motor  brake,  and  my  friend  Farrar's 
got  a  box  for  us  in  the  Grand  Stand." 

106 


LONDON  LAVENDER  107 

"All  right,"  I  said.  "But  I  always  understood 
that  one  should  go  to  the  Derby  in  a  hearse,  wearing 
a  green  puggeree.  You  see,  I  was  out  of  England 
so  long,  I  don't  really  know." 

"I  hope  you'll  be  able  to  bear  up  without  your 
green  puggeree  next  Wednesday,"  said  Dollie,  with 
real  anxiety.  These  young  men,  for  all  their 
"wow-wows,"  are  very  scrupulous  dressers  and  anxious 
company-keepers  nowadays,  I  notice. 

"I'll  try,"  I  said. 

"But,  look  here,"  he  added,  "I  don't  want  to  bore 
you,  you  know,  but  I  hope  that  when  we're  there 
you're  all  going  to  bet.  You  haven't  any  rotten 
objections,  have  you?" 

I  said  that  I  knew  of  none.  For  my  own  part  I 
would  cheerfully  put  something  on. 

Dollie  was  immensely  relieved.  "That's  all  right, 
then,"  he  said.  "Racing  without  betting's  like 
oysters  without  lemon.  Some  people  pretend  to 
like  it  for  the  sport  only ;  but  there  isn't  any  sport. 
There's  only  a  great,  sweltering  crowd  that  lasts  for 
hours,  and  every  half-hour  a  brown  rush  which  lasts  a 
second  that  you  can't  see  because  someone's  in  the 
the  way.  That's  racing  when  you  don't  bet.  But 
when  you  do  bet  it  is  interesting  all  the  while.  You 
don't  notice  the  crowd  and  you  do  notice  the  merry 
little  gees." 

"But  isn't  betting  very  bad  for  people?"  Naomi 

inquired. 

•    "Bad  for  those  who  can't  afford  to  be  pipped," 


108  LONDON  LAVENDER 

said  Dollie,  "yes.  But  I  don't  know  that  it's  done 
me  much  harm.  Whisky  and  soda  instead  of  vino 
Veritas,  now  and  then,  I'll  admit;  but  when  you 
chance  to  hop  on  to  a  winner,  what  ho,  for  the 
ancient  vintage.  The  awful  thing  about  betting," 
Dollie  continued,  "is,  that  no  matter  whether  you  lose 
or  whether  you  win,  you  always  reproach  yourself. 
You  always  say,  'If  only  I'd  done  so  and  so.' ' 

"But  you  had  what's  called  a  tip,  I  suppose,"  said 
Naomi,  with,  I  thought,  strange  knowledge. 

"Yes,  but  a  man  who  bets  is  always  in  two  minds. 
That's  the  second  tragic  thing  about  it.  The  third 
is  that  he's  always  superstitious.  I'll  give  you  an 
instance.  You've  got  a  strong  tip  for  a  horse  called 
Knucklebones.  But  there's  another  horse  in  it  called 
Bobby.  Well,  you're  just  crossing  the  road  to  send 
a  telegram  to  your  bookie  to  back  Knucklebones 
(or  perhaps  you've  sent  it),  when  a  policeman  grabs 
your  arm  and  snatches  you  out  of  the  way  of  a 
taxi.  After  that  how  can  you  possibly  not  back 
Bobby?" 

"Why?"  Naomi  inquired  blankly. 

"Because  of  the  policeman  —  Bobby  —  don't  you 
see?" 

"Poor  things,"  said  Naomi,  with  real  anguish. 
"How  difficult  you  make  life  for  yourselves,  and 
how  sorry  we  ought  to  be  for  you.  I  never  thought 
before  how  racing  men  suffer.  And  some  people  are 
so  down  on  them  too  !" 

"Oh,"  said  Dollie,  "if  you  want  to  pity  usl  can 


LONDON  LAVENDER  109 

give  you  plenty  more  material.  If  you  only  knew 
what  I  suffer  before  I  send  the  telegrams.  Which 
bookie  to  send  to,  for  example.  If  I  lost  the  last 
time,  I  wonder  whether  I  hadn't  better  change  to 
another;  for  everyone  has  more  than  one.  And 
then  the  post  offices:  which  one  to  go  to,  because  some 
have  been  luckier  than  others.  And  even  which 
hand  to  take  the  stamps  with  when  you  lick  them 


on." 


"Poor  Dollie,  poor  Dollie,"  said  Naomi. 

"And  then,"  Dollie  continued,  "think  what  it 
must  be  to  have  a  tip  for  a  horse  and  put  your 
shirt  on  it  in  a  telegram,  and  then,  not  long  before 
the  race,  meet  another  man  whose  information  is 
usually  good  who  gives  you  a  totally  different  tip! 
There's  misery  for  you!  " 

"And  what  do  you  do?"  Naomi  asked. 

"Do?"  said  Dollie.  "Nothing,  only  suffer  and 
wait  for  the  result.  Haven't  you  ever  watched  men's 
faces  after  they've  bought  the  evening  paper  ?  Some 
men  with  a  lot  at  stake  daren't  look  at  the  paper 
at  all  in  the  street.  I've  carried  a  paper  about  for 
an  hour,  myself,  before  I  could  bring  myself  to  learn 
the  worst." 

"Poor  Dollie,"  said  Naomi,  "and  I  have  always 
thought  you  so  frivolous." 

"Few  people  have  more  serious  times  than  I  do," 
he  replied.  "Often  I  can't  sleep  at  all  wondering  if 
I've  done  right  about  a  gee.  And  then  there's 
scratching." 


no  LONDON  LAVENDER 

"Dollie  !"  exclaimed  Naomi  reprovingly. 

"No,  no,  I  don't  mean  that,"  said  Dollie.  "Scratch- 
ing means  taking  a  horse  out  of  a  race  beforehand. 
If  you've  backed  him  and  then  he's  scratched,  you  lose 
your  money  just  as  if  he  had  run  and  lost." 

"I  don't  think  that's  fair,"  said  Naomi. 

"Well,  it's  the  rule  anyhow,"  said  Dollie. 

"Don't  tell  me  any  more,"  said  Naomi.  "I  shall 
get  you  on  my  mind  and  lose  my  sleep  too.  But 
answer  just  this  one  question.  It's  about  the  saying 
'If  only  I'd  done  so  and  so.'  How  is  it  that  all  you 
poor  dears  say  that  if  you  win  as  well  as  if  you 
lose?" 

"Well,  if  you  lose,"  said  Dollie,  "you  say,  'If  only 
I'd  backed  that  other  gee  instead ; '  but  if  you  win 
you  say,  'If  only  I'd  put  on  a  tenner  instead  of  a 
fiver.'  Don't  you  see?  You  can't  get  away  from 
it.  The  words  'If  only  I'd'  are  engraven  on  every 
betting  man's  heart." 

"Then  really  I  almost  wonder  you  don't  give  up 
betting,"  Naomi  replied. 

"  Give  up  betting  ?  Good  Heavens  !  You  must  do 
something,"  said  Dollie,  in  alarm.  "How  could  one 
get  through  the  day  without  a  little  flutter  ?  I  don't 
mean  at  the  races  only,  but  in  town  ?  It  just  keeps 
you  going.  You  pick  out  your  fancies  in  the 
morning,  and  then  you  go  on  buying  the  evening 
papers  all  through  the  day.     That's  life." 

"I  am  afraid  I  have  sadly  misspent  mine,"  I  said. 
"I  haven't  had  a  bet  for  thirty  years." 


LONDON  LAVENDER  m 


(c- 


We  must  get  you  into  good  habits  again  on 
Wednesday,"  said  DolliV. 

The  ride  to  the  Derby  was  amusing,  but  to  have 
chartered  a  motor  was  the  height  of  foolishness. 
The  motor's  recommendation  is  its  speed ;  but  owing 
to  the  congestion  of  the  road  we  rarely  proceeded 
above  a  walking  pace  after  the  first  few  miles.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  a  donkey  barrow  with  three  passengers 
kept  ahead  of  us  for  an  hour. 

Dollie  had  charge  of  the  party.  With  him  was 
Ann  Ingleside ;  Algy  Farrar  and  his  wife  Gwen, 
whom  it  appeared  Naomi  had  known  and  liked  at 
school ;  Naomi ;  I ;  and,  to  my  great  pleasure,  Ann's 
father,  Sir  Gaston  Ingleside,  who  had  been  induced 
to  go,  much,  he  said,  against  his  will  and,  he  feared, 
in  his  country's  time,  he  being  a  Whitehall  magnate ; 
but  he  thought  it  only  right,  as  a  good  parent,  to 
participate  in  some  of  Ann's  actions. 

"But  what  I  am  chiefly  doing,"  he  said,  "is 
marvelling  at  the  change  that  has  come  over  life  in 
my  time.  I  can  no  more  fancy  my  father  taking  me 
to  the  Derby  than  to  an  opium  den;  yet  here  am  I 
placidly  seated  in  the  same  dissolute  vehicle  as  my 
unmarried  daughter,  on  our  way  to  the  great  repre- 
hensible annual  carnival  of  vice." 

"Yes,"  said  Ann,  "and  you  one  of  the  newest 
K.C.B.s  too,  fresh  from  the  King's  presence." 

"By  the  way,"  said  Dollie,  "the  King  will  be  there 
to-day.  He  always  goes  to  the  Derby.  Perhaps  you'll 
meet,  sir.     You  know  each  other  now,  don't  you  ?" 


H2  LONDON  LAVENDER 

"I  shall  never  forget  him  as  long  as  I  live,"  said 
Sir  Gaston;  "but  even  if  he,  as  is  likely,  has  for- 
gotten my  face,  the  spectacle  of  my  legs,  in  hired 
knee-breeches,  walking  perilously  backwards  with  a 
sword  between  them,  must  be  indelibly  printed  on  his 
memory." 

"  Do  tell  me,"  said  Naomi.    "  Was  it  very  dreadful  ?  " 

"Very,"  said  Sir  Gaston.  "We  did  our  best  to 
hearten  each  other,  but  the  dentist  is  nothing  to  it. 
Decent  fellows  we  were,  most  of  us :  brewers,  music 
hall  managers,  actors,  Party-plutocrats,  caterers,  and 
so  forth,  all  armed  to  the  teeth,  all  conscious  of 
clothes  we  had  never  worn  before  and  should  probably 
never  wear  again  —  which  is  in  itself  an  embarrass- 
ment —  and  all  on  the  brink  of  changing  our  identity 
for  ever." 

"How  do  you  mean  ? "  Naomi  asked. 

"Why,  all  my  life  until  then,  or  a  few  days  before 
(but  unofficially,  of  course,  since  the  accolade  had  not 
been  bestowed),  I  have  been  to  the  world  Mr.  Ingle- 
side.  My  Christian  name,  which  always  seemed  to 
me  a  strangely  affected  one  and  was  due  to  my 
mother  as  a  young  woman  having  deplorable 
romantic  tendencies,  I  have  done  my  best  to  sup- 
press. And  now  the  Ingleside  alone  goes  for  ever, 
and  everyone  is  entitled  to  call  me  Sir  Gaston." 

"I  almost  wonder  you  accepted  the  title,"  Naomi 
said. 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Falconer,"  said  Sir  Gaston,  "I 
wonder,  too,  now ;  but  at  the  time  there  seemed  to  be 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


JI3 


several  rather  good  reasons.  Perhaps  the  best  of  all 
was  that  I  was  a  widower." 

Sir  Gaston  gave  me  a  sidelong  glance  here  which 
I  greatly  esteemed.  Here  was  good  company  ;  old 
in  bottle.  The  joke  was  lost,  I  fear,  on  Naomi,  who 
puckered  her  beautiful  forehead  over  it  in  vain.  As 
for  the  rest,  they  had  not  been  listening  to  us  at  all 
but  were  busy  watching  the  occupants  of  the  other 
carriages,  with  some  of  whom  Dollie  and  Farrar 
were  on  very  familiar  terms. 

We  reached  the  course  at  last  and  the  Grand 
Stand,  where  Farrar,  who  seems  to  be  a  millionaire, 
had  a  box  for  the  week,  in  which  not  only  were 
chairs  but  a  very  attractive  lunch. 

I  thanked  him  later  in  the  day  for  being  so  hospi- 
table to  strangers. 

"That's  all  right,"  he  said,  almost  as  if  I  had 
apologized  for  something. 

A  curious  young  man,  one  of  those  mixtures  of 
sagacity  and  apathy,  thoughtfulness  and  blankness, 
which  the  idle  classes  throw  up  so  easily  and  which 
make  an  expensive  education  look  so  foolish.  His 
passion  is  motoring,  but  he  has  leanings  towards  the 
air,  which,  however,  his  wife  discourages.  He  there- 
fore does  not  fly  himself,  although  he  has  been  up  as 
a  passenger  once  or  twice,  but  spends  most  of  his 
time  between  Brooklands  and  Hendon,  being  con- 
vivial with  his  aviating  friends  while  they  are  alive, 
and  following  them  loyally  to  the  grave  when  they 
fall. 


ii4  LONDON  LAVENDER 

"What  is  it  like  in  the  air?"  I  once  asked  him. 

"Ripping,"  he  said. 

"But  the  sensations?"  I  continued.  "How  do 
you  feel?  " 

"Ripping,"  he  said. 

"And  what  does  the  world  look  like  down  below 
as  you  rush  along  ?  " 

"Ripping,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  XV 

IN  WHICH  I  AM  INITIATED  INTO  THE  MYS- 
TERIES OF  THE  RING,  AND  AM  MORE 
BEWILDERED  THAN  USUAL  BY  MY  COUN- 
TRYMEN'S  AVOIDANCE   OF   FACTS 

THE  scene  from  our  box  was  remarkable.  Beneath 
was  stretched  an  undulating  mass  of  people 
such  as  it  is  usual  to  call,  in  descriptive  articles,  a  sea  of 
humanity,  and  in  the  present  instance  the  simile  has 
peculiar  propriety,  for  from  it  rose  a  persistent, 
murmuring  roar  very  like  the  waves  in  certain  moods. 
This  sound  proceeded  chiefly  from  the  breakers  — 
or  bookmakers  —  immediately  beneath  us,  in  the 
privileged  enclosure  where  gambling  is  a  duty. 
Then  came  the  course,  and  then  a  square  mile  of 
rabble,  black  in  the  main,  like  all  crowds,  but 
chequered  with  brighter  colours,  and  broken  by 
booths  and  roundabouts  and  all  the  fun  of  the  fair. 

We  began  our  lunch  at  once  and  ate  through  the 
first  race,  on  which  Dollie  was  not  betting.  Then 
Dollie  invited  me  down  among  the  bookies,  and  the 
men  of  us  went,  except  Ingleside. 

"No,"  he  said,  "so  many  of  the  staid  young  gentle- 
men in  my  department  are  absent  to-day  owing  to 

"5 


n6  LONDON  LAVENDER 

domestic  troubles,  that  I  am  nervous.  It  would  hurt 
me  too  much  to  run  into  any  of  them.  It  is  too 
crowded,  too,"  he  added.  "The  fact  is,  I  am  an  anti- 
social animal  and  it's  no  use  disguising  the  fact.  I 
like  a  few  persons  very  much ;  but  all  the  rest  affright 
me.  Write  me  as  one  who  loves  his  fellow-men  but 
is  very  easily  bored  by  them." 

So  we  fought  our  way  into  the  enclosure  in  the 
very  centre  of  the  competitive  clamour.  Never  have 
I  heard  such  a  noise;  never  seen  human  faces  so 
distorted  by  vociferousness.  It  was  a  remarkable 
scene.  Everyone  there  was  doing  a  thing  which  it  is 
generally  agreed  by  statesmen  and  sociologists  is  bad, 
and  which,  if  it  is  done  outside  the  course,  is  illegal. 
Some  of  the  leading  men  in  the  land  were  here,  and 
the  Monarch  and  Defender  of  the  Faith  was  in  a  box 
just  above.  Enough  money  to  endow  all  the  hospitals 
of  the  country  was  changing  hands  lightly  over  the 
issue  of  a  contest  between  a  dozen  horses;  and  not 
one  penny  of  it  was  going  to  the  country,  except 
indirectly,  later  on,  in  the  form  of  death  duties  or 
income  tax.  For  we  do  not  make  racing  men  or 
bookmakers  pay  a  farthing  towards  the  exchequer 
for  their  amusement.  Even  France,  which  has  never 
pretended  that  betting  was  wrong  and  holds  its  most 
popular  race-meetings  on  Sunday,  makes  the  betting 
class  pay  two  and  a  half  per  cent,  of  its  winnings  to 
the  hospitals  of  the  land ;  but  in  England  we  allow 
this  great  source  of  revenue  to  go  untouched. 

I  afterwards  asked  Sir  Gaston  how  this  was. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  117 

"  Simple  enough,"  he  said.  "  If  you  tax  betting  you 
legalize  it ;  and  then  you  have  all  Nonconformity  in 
arms  against  you." 

"But  we  let  it  go  on,"  I  said. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "but  that's  England.  We  have 
a  profound  aptitude  as  a  nation  for  closing  one  eye." 

"The  odd  thing  about  England  in  that  respect,"  I 
said,  "is  that,  individually,  all  the  Englishmen  that 
one  meets  agree  that  we  are  absurdly  illogical  if  not 
hypocritical;  yet  in  the  mass  these  hypocrisies  are 
encouraged.  How  is  that?  In  France  the  units  are 
representative  of  the  national  f eeling ;  in  England  the 
units  are  not  representative." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Sir  Gaston.  "The  same 
problem  has  perplexed  me.  I'm  not  proud  of  the 
anomaly." 

"Are  they  all  Jews?"  I  asked Dollie,  in  the  ring. 

"Nearly  all,  and  the  owners,  too,"  said  Dollie; 
"but  that's  all  right.  What's  the  matter  with  Jews ? 
They're  good  enough  Christians,  most  of  them. 
Here's  a  tip-topper  anyway,"  and  he  stopped  to  speak 
to  an  eager  anxious  man  in  a  white  hat  who,  if  he  was 
not  a  Jew,  had  been  vaccinated  with  Hebrew  lymph. 

I  was  introduced  to  the  tip-top  Christian  and  he 
wished  me  a  lucky  day. 

"No  money  about,"  he  said,  "compared  with 
what  it  used  to  be." 

"Do  you  mean  there's  less  betting?"  I  inquired. 
"Oh  no,  much  more,"  he  said,  "but;  it's  chiefly  S.P. 
now.     They  don't  do  it  here  as  they  used." 


u8  LONDON  LAVENDER 

"Starting  price,  that  means,"  Dollie  explained. 
"The  law  allows  starting-price  betting  anywhere,  but 
betting  of  this  kind  only  on  race-courses.  The  differ- 
ence is  that  in  S.P.  betting  you  don't  know  what  the 
odds  are  until  the  race  is  finished,  and  in  course 
betting  you  try  to  get  the  best  odds  you  can.  S.P. 
betting  is  chiefly  done  by  telegram,  and  no  money 
may  change  hands  till  after  the  race,  otherwise  it's 
illegal.  They  say  the  post  office  would  smash  if  it 
weren't  for  betting." 

"Oh,  do  stop,"  I  said;  "you  are  giving  me  far  too 
much  to  think  about." 

Turning  away  from  this  predatory  avaricious  scene 
—  for  it  is  idle  to  call  it  anything  else  —  I  made  my 
way  to  the  distant  paddock  to  see  the  innocent  causes 
of  all  the  trouble,  the  race-horses.  It  is  one  of  the 
strangest  mysteries  in  a  world  that  specializes  in  such 
things,  that  this  beautiful,  loyal  creature  should  leave 
behind  it  such  a  wake  of  seaminess  and  fraud. 

After  a  few  minutes  in  the  paddock  I  returned  to 
the  ring  where  Dollie  and  Farrar  were  still  busy 
trying  to  find  longer  odds  on  their  fancies;  but  the 
horses  coming  out  of  the  paddock  on  their  way  to  the 
starting-point  sent  Dollie  upstairs  at  the  run  to  see 
what  the  girls  wanted  to  back.  "Girls,"  he  added, 
"always  choose  horses  by  either  the  jockey's  face  or 
his  colours  —  and  I'm  hanged  if  it  isn't  as  good  a  way 
as  following  what  we  call  form." 

Dollie  was  an  eternity  on  his  mission,  and  I  had  a 
thousand  elbows  in  my  back  in  my  efforts  to  remain 


LONDON  LAVENDER  119 

where  he  had  placed  me ;  and  I  heard,  I  suppose,  a 
thousand  tips  as  to  the  winner  passing  between 
friends.  But  one  phrase  alone  impressed  me,  uttered 
by  a  jovial  old  man  to  a  youthful  companion  who 
might  have  been  his  nephew,  "  Always  back  the 
favourite  to  win,  my  boy,"  he  said,  "and  the  most 
likely  of  the  outsiders  both  ways.  " 

Being  always  open  to  good  counsel  I  deter- 
mined to  follow  this  advice ;  so  when  Dollie  returned 
and  asked  me  what  I  wished  to  back,  I  said  I  wanted 
four  pounds  on  the  favourite  to  win,  and  three  pounds 
each  way  on  Peppermint. 

Dollie  opened  his  eyes.  "You  seem  to  know  your 
own  mind  all  right,"  he  said. 

"I  always  determined  to  follow  this  rule,"  I  said, 
"if  ever  I  should  take  to  betting  —  to  back  the 
favourite  to  win  and  a  likely  outsider  both  ways." 

Dollie  whistled.  "Are  you  taking  me  to  the  Derby 
or  am  I  taking  you?"  he  asked.  "Very  well,  come 
and  put  it  on.  Naomi  is  on  to  Peppermint  too;  she 
says  the  jock's  such  a  little  angel.  (She  ought  to  hear 
him  in  the  paddock  !)  Mrs.  Farrar  wants  old  rose  and 
purple  —  he's  on  a  hopeless  ruin  named  Usquebaugh. 
See  what  you  can  get,"  Dollie  added. 

I  approached  the  reputed  Christian,  who  was  be- 
sieged by  clients,  and  at  last  secured  his  ear. 

"I  want  to  put  four  pounds  on  Paladin,"  I  said. 

"Seven  pounds  to  four,  Mr.  Heathcote's  friend," 
he  directed  his  clerk  instantly,  without  even  looking 
at  me,  but  holding  out  his  hand  for  the  money. 


120  LONDON  LAVENDER 

"And  three  pounds  each  way  Peppermint,"  I  said. 

"Twenty-four  pounds  to  three  and  six  pounds  to 
three  Peppermint,  Mr.  Heathcote's  friend,"  he  con- 
tinued, and  was  taking  Dollie's  various  commissions 
before  I  could  move. 

"That's  the  way,"  said  Dollie,  as  we  struggled 
back  up  the  stairs.  "Those  are  the  heads!  If  we 
only  had  Cabinet  Ministers  like  that!  " 

We  were  in  time  to  see  the  start  through  our 
glasses  a  mile  away  over  the  crowds  and  the  booths. 
A  roar  indicated  that  the  horses  were  off  and  at  once 
the  hubbub  below  quieted,  only  to  break  out  afresh 
into  new  offers  as  the  horses  began  to  assert  them- 
selves. 

One  race,  knowing  men  often  say,  is  as  good  as 
another;  only  one  horse  can  win  anyway,  and  as 
desperate  efforts  to  be  that  horse  are  made  at  Ling- 
field  as  at  Newmarket,  Ascot  or  Epsom.  This  may 
be  true,  on  paper,  but,  as  a  matter  of  emotional  fact, 
there  is  no  race  like  the  Derby,  because  there  is  no 
race  with  so  much  human  interest  behind  it.  These 
thousands  of  people  cannot  be  disregarded ;  each 
brings  something  of  intensity.  And  then  the  stage 
management  of  the  Derby  is  so  much  more  elaborate 
than  that  of  any  other  race;  the  steady  growth  of 
interest  in  the  horses,  the  daily  bulletins  in  the  press, 
the  sweepstakes,  and  so  forth.  And  the  race  itself  — 
all  horses  starting  at  the  same  weight  and  the  same 
age.  No,  there  may  by  chance  be  finer  riding  in 
certain  races  of  the  year,  and  closer  finishes,  but  the 


LONDON  LAVENDER  121 

Derby  horses  start  in  an  air  more  heavily  charged 
with  human  electricity  than  any  other,  and,  I  imagine, 
always  will.  For  heroic  endurance  on  a  great  scale, 
the  Grand  National ;  but  for  the  maximum  of  excite- 
ment, the  Derby. 

An  outsider  won,  and  the  favourite  was  not  even 
placed ;  and  immediately  we  knew  the  result  we  all 
knew  why  we  should  have  backed  it  if  only  we  had 
thought  a  little  longer.  But  at  the  Derby  thought  is 
not  easy;  there  is  so  much  distraction,  and  the 
conditions  of  life  are  so  upset,  that  one's  ordinary 
mental  processes  refuse  to  work.  The  winner  was  a 
grey  filly,  and  there  was  every  reason  why  I,  for  one, 
should  have  known  it  would  win,  because  the  only 
horse  that  I  had  specially  noticed  on  the  way  down 
was  a  grey  filly  rolling  in  a  field.  Surely  there  was 
the  finger  of  Providence  in  that !  On  my  mentioning 
this,  Dollie  asked  with  much  asperity  why  I  had  not 
told  him? 

"It  meant  nothing  to  me,"  I  said,  "partly  because 
I  am  not  a  gambler,  and  not  a  little  because  I  had 
no  notion  that  any  of  the  Derby  runners  were  grey 
or  fillies.  Had  I  stayed  at  home  and  read  the  paper 
I  might  have  known ;  absurd  to  bring  me  to  the 
course  and  then  expect  me  to  know  anything  of  the 
horses.     There  was  no  grey  filly  in  the  paddock." 

"No,"  said  Dollie,  "I'm  afraid  you're  right.  No 
one  ever  yet  saw  a  real  horse  in  the  paddock  —  at 
least,  not  until  the  race  was  over." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

IN  WHICH  FOUR-LEGS  MAKE  MUCH  ANXIETY 
FOR  TWO-LEGS  AND  SIR  GASTON  DEVELOPS 
OCCULT  GIFTS 

"TT7ELL,"  said   Dollie,  later  in  the  afternoon, 

VV  "how  do  we  stand?  I  personally  am  forty 
pounds  down.  Farrar  here  is  fifteen  pounds  down. 
Falconer,  having  neglected  my  advice,  is  several 
pounds  to  the  good.  Mrs.  Falconer  and  Mrs.  Farrar, 
having  had  the  good  sense  to  ignore  form  and  the 
prophets,  and  to  bet  entirely  on  combinations  of 
colour,  have  made  a  little,  and  Ann  saved  her  face. 
But  if  we  are  going  to  make  anything  we  must  do  it 
now.  You  study  the  card  while  Farrar  and  I  go  and 
do  some  intelligent  eavesdropping." 

On  their  returning  they  brought  news  of  a  likely 
outsider  named  Crumpet,  ridden  by  one  of  the  most 
successful  jockeys  of  the  day. 

"I've  put  my  shirt  on  him,"  said  Dollie,  "both 
ways.  If  he  wins  I  make  a  lot;  if  he's  only  placed 
I  get  back  my  dropped  forty." 

"And  if  he  loses?"  I  said. 

"We  will  draw  a  veil,"  Dollie  replied.  "But  my 
favourite  poison  is  prussic  and  apollinaris." 

12a 


LONDON  LAVENDER  123 

"Here  you  are,"  said  Ann  Ingleside  quietly. 
"Please  put  this  half-sovereign  for  me  on  Witch 
Hazel  to  win." 

"Why  Witch  Hazel  ?"  Dollie  asked. 

"I  fancy  him,"  she  said. 

"Any  other  orders?"  Dollie  asked. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "here  is  a  five  pound  note  and  a 
sovereign.  Heaven  knows  I  need  both,  but  if  they 
go  it  will  make  a  picturesque  topic  on  which  to  con- 
verse at  dinners  and  such  places,  and  if  I  win,  I  dare 
say  I  shall  find  something  to  do  with  it.  I  want  you 
to  put  four  pounds  on  Ratton's  mount  for  a  place, 
and  two  pounds  to  win." 

"'Why  Ratton's  ?  "  Dollie  asked.  Our  independence 
was  beginning  to  tell  on  him. 

"Because  Ratton  hasn't  had  a  win  to-day,  and  he 
is  in  the  habit  of  doing  better  than  that.  He  will 
ride  like  a  demon  this  time  because  it's  the  last 
chance." 

"Very  well,"  said  Dollie.  "But  why  I've  been 
wasting  my  breath  instructing  you  about  racing,  I 
shall  never  understand." 

Naomi  produced  ten  shillings  and  asked  for  it  to 
be  put  on  my  horse,  five  shillings  each  way. 

Downstairs  ran  Dollie,  and  we  watched  him  moving 
from  one  group  to  another  seeking  the  largest  price 
—  or  at  least  we  thought  we  did,  for,  from  a  box  at 
Epsom,  every  young  man  in  the  ring  looks  alike. 

It  was  a  race  that  I  shall  never  forget.  The  other 
races  Dollie  had  watched  stolidly  enough;   but  here, 


124 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


with  so  much  at  stake,  he  gave  in  and  disappeared 
from  the  room.  Men  seem  to  be  affected  very 
differently.  Some  hate  to  see  the  horses  at  all,  after 
the  start,  and  at  the  close  come  out  of  retirement  to 
know  the  result;  others  watch  every  step  through 
their  glasses,  and  either  learn  their  fate  early  or  do 
not  know  it  till  the  post;  some  are  silent;  others 
shout  instructions  to  the  horses  and  their  riders, 
quite  oblivious  to  the  fact  that  they  are  a  mile  away 
doing  their  best. 

The  field  in  this  race  kept  very  closely  together 
and  the  horses  passed  us  in  a  mass  of  brown  and  silk 
from  which  our  eyes  could  distinguish  nothing  definite. 
So  we  had  to  wait  for  the  numbers,  which  went  up 
like  this 

9 

3 

7 

9  was  Palimpsest,  ridden  by  Ratton;    3  was  Witch 

Hazel,  and  7  was  Crumpet.     Dollie^came  in  at  this 

moment  and  glanced  at  the  board. 

" Good  Heavens,"  he  said,  "I've  just  scraped  in,  but 
Falconer's  on  to  the  winner.     And  3  —  who's  3  ?  " 

"Witch  Hazel,"  said  Ann. 

"Perhaps  you'll  tell  me/'  said  Dollie,  "why  you 
fixed  on  such  an  outsider  as  that  ?" 

"Because,"  said  his  betrothed,  "Mrs.  Boody,  our 
housekeeper,  always  says  that  if  you're  ever  in  doubt 
what  to  do  you  should  try  Witch  Hazel.  I  mean 
when  you've  hurt  yourself." 


LONDON  LAVENDER  125 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  that?"  Dollie  asked  with 
some  spirit. 

"Because  tips  of  that  kind  are  such  personal  things. 
They  don't  work  for  others.  Anyway,  you're  all 
square." 

"Yes,  but  I  could  only  get  3  to  1  for  a  place  on 
Crumpet,  while  I  got  you  4H  to  1.  But  if  I  don't 
hurry  we  shan't  get  even  what  we  have  won." 

Dollie  returned  laden  with  gold  and  five  pound 
notes,  which  he  distributed.  To  Ann  he  gave  two 
pounds,  fifteen  shillings  which  she  took  with  a  little 
pout,  remarking,  "If  only  I'd  put  it  on  to  win!" 
while  Naomi,  when  he  gave  her  her  ill-gotten  gains, 
remarked,  "If  only  I'd  made  it  a  sovereign  !" 

"Ah,"  said  Sir  Gaston,  "what  you  ought  to  say  is, 
'If  only  I  hadn't  bet  at  all.'  There's  an  insidious 
poison  in  that  money.  Mark  my  words.  Some  day 
if  you  go  on  like  this  you'll  be  on  the  staff  of  the 
5 tar  or  become  a  secret  cocoa-drinker.  If  you  go  to 
my  overcoat,  Ann,"  he  continued,  "and  feel  in  the 
right-hand  pocket,  you'll  find  the  card  I  marked 
before  this  race." 

Ann  fetched  it  and  gave  it  to  her  father. 
'  "I  don't  insist  on  your  believing  me,"  he  said,  "but 
it  is  true  none  the  less.  While  you  were  making 
up  your  minds  how  to  lay  out  your  money,  I  tried 
my  luck  at  spotting  the  winner,  and  here's  the 
result." 

He  held  out  the  card  and,  to  our  astonishment  and 
almost  to  Dollie's  permanent  and  tragic  undoing,  we 


126  LONDON  LAVENDER 

saw  that  he  had  named  not  only  the  winner  but  the 
second  horse  as  well. 

"My  hat,  sir,"  cried  Dollie,  "how  did  you  do 
that?" 

Sir  Gaston  looked  inscrutable. 

"No,  but  do  tell  us,"  Naomi  said.  "It's  like 
magic." 

"Well,"  said  Sir  Gaston,  "I'll  tell  you.  But  you'll 
keep  the  secret,  I  hope.  I  first  placed  the  race-card 
on  the  table  —  you  could  have  seen  me  if  you  hadn't 
all  been  so  consumed  by  the  lust  for  money.  I  then 
took  my  pencil  in  my  right  hand,  held  the  card  with 
my  left,  closed  my  eyes,  and  made  a  dot  at  random. 
That  was  the  first  horse.  Then  I  made  dots  for  the 
other  two,  and  you  behold  the  result  —  two  right  out 
of  three." 

"But  why  didn't  you  back  your  fancy?"  Dollie 
asked.     "You've  thrown  away  a  fortune." 

"For  two  reasons,"  said  Sir  Gaston.  "One  is  that 
I  never  bet  and  don't  want  to.  And  the  other  is 
that  I  had  no  confidence  in  my  prescience." 

"  Will  you  try  the  same  thing  for  me  for  the  Oaks 
on  Friday  ?  "  Dollie  asked. 

"  Certainly — if  you  will  promise  me  something." 

"Well?" 

"  Not  to  bet  on  the  result." 

"  Oh,  but  that's  what  I  want  it  for." 

"  Yes,  but  such  lucky  shots  don't  come  off  twice  in 
one  week." 

The  Farrars  came  back  at  this  moment  in  very  low 
spirits,  for  they  had  had  bad  luck  all  day. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  127 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  I'm  rolling,  anyway.  And  you're 
all  going  to  dine  with  me  to-night  and  the  balance 
shall  go  to  the  hospitals  —  as  though  I  had  won  it  in 
France." 

"  But  why  don't  you  follow  your  luck  and  put  in 
on  a  horse  ?  "  Dollie  gasped. 

"Not  for  another  year,"  I  said.  "I  bet  only  at 
the  Derby.  I  couldn't  stand  the  wear  and  tear  of  it 
oftener.  It's  too  exciting.  My  heart  is  beating  at 
this  moment  like  a  propeller.  I  want  a  quiet  life. 
Besides,  think  of  Naomi — you  know  the  miseries  in 
store  for  a  gambler's  wife.  And  another  thing — I 
have  it  very  clearly  fixed  at  the  back  of  my  head — 
and  nothing  that  I  have  seen  to-day  alters  the  feeling 
—  that  there  is  nothing  to  pluck  on  a  race-course 
but  Dead  Sea  fruit." 

"We  will  now  sing  hymn  one  hundred  and  forty- 
two,"  said  Dollie,  with  great  solemnity;  "Wow- 
wow  ! " 

I  approached  Farrar  with  an  expression  of  sympa- 
thy for  his  losses. 

"Oh,  that's  nothing,"  he  replied.  "I'm  still  on 
the  right  side  for  the  year  and  I'll  pull  this  round  safe 
enough.  Things  look  blackest  before  the  dawn,  don't 
you  know." 

"If  you  take  to  proverbs,"  said  Sir  Gaston, 
who  was  standing  by,  "you'll  never  know  where 
you  are,  for  there's  a  neutralizer  for  every  one  of 
them." 

"  I  can  give  Farrar  an  example,"  I  said,  "  that  will 


128  LONDON  LAVENDER 

take  some  neutralizing — '  The  grey  mare's  the  better 
horse.'" 

Farrar  groaned,  but  his  wife  laughed. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Falconer,"  she  said;  "what  a 
pretty  compliment !" 

Which  only  shows  how  we  stumble  on  some  of  our 
neatest  things. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

IN  WHICH  AN  OLD  GAMBLER  (RETIRED  FROM 
BUSINESS)  TELLS  OF  A  TRIUMPH,  AND  THE 
YOUNGER  GENERATION  IN  LOVE  COME 
UNDER  REVIEW 

ON  the  way  back  Sir  Gaston  told  us  of  an 
incident  many  years  ago,  when  he  did 
occasionally  put  something  on  a  horse  —  not  as  a 
habit,  but  if  he  heard  anything. 

He  had  been  staying,  he  said,  with  two  friends  for 
a  fortnight  in  Ireland,  fishing  at  a  man  named 
Regan's.  One  friend  was  Glenister,  a  curious  obstinate 
fellow,  now  in  India ;  the  other  was  Horace  Bradley, 
the  K.C.  The  day  before  their  last  they  were  driving 
over  to  Rushtown  to  see  the  races,  and  on  the  way 
Captain  O'Driscoll  overtook  them  in  his  American 
buggy.     I  reconstruct  Sir  Gaston's  story. 

"  '  Going  to  the  races  ? '  O'Driscoll  asked,  as  he 
slowed  down  for  a  moment.  'So'm  I.  See  you 
there.'  He  clicked  on,  and  then,  stopping  again, 
turned  round  to  call  out  —  'Don't  forget  Blackadder 
for  the  College  Stakes.     Dead  cert.     Put  your  shirts 

on,'  and  was  again  off. 

k  129 


130  LONDON  LAVENDER 

"'All  very  well/  said  Glenister  thoughtfully,  'but 
where  are  our  shirts?  Speaking  personally,  my 
shirt  is  a  return  ticket  to  London  and  about  eighteen 
shillings,  which  I  shall  need.' 

"'Yes,'  said  Bradley.  'And  I'm  no  better  off, 
confound  it ! ' 

'"You  forget,'  said  I,  'that  I  have  a  five-pound 
note  in  my  pocket  intended  as  our  joint  tip  to  old 
Rice.'  (Rice  was  Regan's  butler.)  'Lucky  we  de- 
cided to  put  it  aside.' 

"'Yes,'  said  Glenister,  'but  that's  the  butler's.' 

"'Not  till  to-morrow/  said  I. 

"'No,'  said  Bradley,  'not  till  to-morrow.' 

'"But  hang  it  all,'  said  Glenister,  who  was  a 
precisian  and  adored  his  conscience,  'where  are  we 
if  we  put  it  on  this  horse  and  the  beggar  loses?  I 
know  these  dead  certs.  It  won't  be  Rice's  to-morrow, 
then,  will  it  ?  To  my  mind  it's  his  now,  and  we  ought 
to  respect  his  ownership.  It  was  to  make  sure  of 
his  having  it  that  we  gave  it  to  the  Goat  to  keep.' 

"I  was  the  Goat.  How  funny  to  think  of  it  now ! 
I  haven't  been  called  the  Goat  for  hundreds  of 
years." 

"0  father,"  said  Ann,  "may  I  call  you  the  Goat?" 

"Certainly  not,"  said  the  Knight.  "I  admitted 
that  Glenister  was  logical,"  he  continued,  '"but  all  the 
same,'  I  said,  'here's  a  straight  tip,  and  it's  a  sin  not 
to  use  it.  One  doesn't  often  get  them,  and  to  start  a 
whole  menagerie  of  sophistries  in  return  is  the  kind  of 
ingratitude  that  providence  doesn't  soon  forgive.' 


LONDON  LAVENDER  131 


Cl(, 


Of  course,'  said  Bradley.  'The  Goat's  right. 
And,  after  all,  there's  no  sense  in  being  so  infernally 
conscientious.  A  gamble's  a  gamble,  and  old  Rice 
would  be  almost  as  pleased  to  hear  that  we  had 
put  his  fiver  on  a  horse  as  to  have  it  shoved  into 
his  hand.' 

"Glenister  laughed.  'I  say  no  more,'  he  said. 
'You  do  what  you  like  with  the  fiver.  Personally,  I 
shall  have  ten  shillings  on  Blackadder  to  win, 
although  why  on  earth  we  all  swallow  that  soldier 
man's  advice  so'  unquestioningly  I  shall  never 
understand.' 

'"If  the  Goat  will  lend  me  two  pounds,'  said 
Bradley,  '  I  will  back  Blackadder  for  a  pound  each 
way.' 

"'The  Goat  won't,'  said  I.  'All  that  the  Goat 
proposes  to  do  is  to  put  the  butler's  fiver  on  to  win.' 

"This,  later,  I  did,  having  found  a  bookmaker  who 
was  giving  10  to  1 ;  and,  true  to  Captain  O'Driscoll's 
word,  Blackadder  romped  in  an  easy  winner. 

"I  collected  the  eleven  rustling  five-pound  notes 
and  stowed  them  carefully  away  inside  my  coat, 
and  in  the  late  afternoon  we  drove  back.  Naturally 
we  had  a  good  deal  to  say  about  the  racing,  our 
fortunate  meeting  with  O'Driscoll,  and  so  forth. 
And  then  suddenly  Glenister  remarked,  'I  wonder 
what  the  old  boy  will  do  with  it?  Set  up  as  a 
small  tobacconist  in  Dublin,  do  you  think  ? ' 

'"What  old  boy?'  I  asked. 

"'Why,  Rice,  of  course.' 


132 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


"'You  can't  set  up  as  a  small  tobacconist  on  five 
pounds/  said  Bradley.  'At  least,  if  you  did,  you'd 
be  so  small  a  tobacconist  that  your  customers  would 
want  a  microscope.' 

"'Don't  be  an  idiot,'  said  Glenister.  'He'll  have 
fifty-five  pounds,  won't  he  ?' 

"Bradley  and  I  were  silent.  This  was  a  proposi- 
tion that  needed  thought. 

'"I  don't  see  why  he  should  have  more  than  the 
fiver,'  I  said  at  last.  'It  was  all  we  were  going  to 
give  him,  wasn't  it  ?     You  will  admit  that  ? ' 

"'Certainly,'  said  Glenister.  'It  was  his  fiver,  and 
you  were  keeping  it  for  him,  weren't  you?  You 
won't  deny  that?' 

"  'In  a  way  I  was,'  I  said. 

"'0  law!'  groaned  Bradley.  'What  a  hair- 
splitter  ! ' 

"'Very  well,  then,'  said  Glenister.  'You  had 
Rice's  five  pounds  and  you  gambled  with  it  —  in 
itself  a  jolly  unprincipled  thing  to  do,  as  it  wasn't 
yours :  poor  devils  are  doing  time  all  over  the  place 
for  much  less;  and  now,  when  your  flutter  turns  up 
trumps,  you  deny  him  —  who  might  have  been  your 
victim  —  the  benefit !  I  call  it  downright  mean  — 
squalid,  in  fact.' 

"'You  make  it  sound  rotten,'  I  said,  'but  there's  a 
fallacy  somewhere.  To  begin  with,  as  I  said  before, 
it  isn't  the  butler's  own  money  till  to-morrow.  He 
hadn't  earned  it  till  the  end  of  our  visit.  If  it  wasn't 
his  it  is  ours,  and  we  could  do  as  we  liked  with  it. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  133 

Wc  did,  and  the  result  is  we  have  now  enough  to 
divide  up  into  sixteen  pounds,  thirteen  shillings,  and 
fourpence  each,  which  I  shall  be  pleased  to  give  you 
directly  we  get  back,  while  Rice  has  his  fiver  intact.' 

"'Not  for  me,'  said  Glenister.  'I  won  five  pounds 
with  my  own  ten  bob,  and  that's  all  I  make  out  of 
Blackadder.  I  can't  take  your  sixteen  pounds  odd, 
because  it  isn't  mine.  I  may  snore,  as  you  agree  to 
allege,  but  I'm  not  a  thief.' 

"'0  law!'  Bradley  groaned  again.  'My  dear 
Glenister,  you're  talking  like  a  Herbert  Spencer  sort 
of  ass.  All  it  means  is  that  the  Goat  and  I  will  have 
to  take  twenty-five  pounds  each  ? ' 

"'No,'  said  Glenister,  'you  can't  do  that;  because 
a  third,  at  any  rate,  of  the  original  fiver  was  mine, 
or,  as  I  hold,  the  butler's,  and  he  must  have  what 
that  share  made.  You  and  the  Goat  can  take  the 
sixteen  pounds  odd  each,  but  the  butler  must  have 
my  third  and  the  original  fiver  besides.  But  I  don't 
envy  you  your  explanation  to  him.' 

"'No,'  I  said  after  a  while,  'either  the  butler  must 
have  all  or  none.     I  can  see  that.' 

"'Dash  the  whole  stupid  business!'  exclaimed 
Bradley.     'Let  him  have  it  all.     We'll  be  generous.' 

"'It  belongs  to  him,'  said  Glenister.  'There's  no 
generosity  in  the  matter.  There's  nothing  but  justice 
or  injustice.' 

t  "'Very  well,'  Bradley  snapped  out.  'I'm  tired  of 
it.  Next  time  I  go  to  a  race-meeting  I'll  take  care  it's 
not  with  a  blooming  Socrates.' 


i34  LONDON  LAVENDER 

"'Then  that's  settled/  I  said  as  cheerfully  as  I 
could.     'Rice  has  the  lot.' 

"'The  lot/  said  Glenister.  'I'll  admit  it's  enough, 
but  there's  no  other  course.'  : 

"We  rode  the  rest  of  the  way  in  disgust  and  silence, 
and  then"  —  here  Sir  Gaston  began  to  laugh  —  "and 
then  the  rummest  thing  happened.  Regan's  groom 
met  us  at  the  stable-yard  and  took  the  mare's  head. 
He  seemed  to  be  unusually  excited,  and  I  wondered 
if  he  had  learned  that  he  too  had  backed  a  winner. 

"'I'm  afraid  you'll  find  the  house  a  bit  upset,'  he 
said  to  Glenister,  'but  the  fact  is,  there's  been  a  little 
trouble  while  you  were  away.  The  butler's  bolted. 
It  seems  he's  been  dishonest  for  a  long  time,  and 
to-day  he  thought  the  game  was  up  and  ran.' 

"We  looked  at  each  other  and  then  a  threefold 
sigh  rent  the  air. 

"Bradley  suddenly  began  to  roll  with  laughter. 

"Glenister  for  a  while  did  not  speak.  Then,  'I'll 
trouble  you,'  he  said  to  me,  'for  sixteen  pounds, 
thirteen  shillings,  and  fourpence,  and  the  third  of  a 
five-pound  note.'" 

I  wondered  what  were  Sir  Gaston's  feelings  as  to 
his  prospective  son-in-law's  gambling  propensities,  and 
later,  on  the  way  back,  he  enlightened  me. 

"It's  an  odd  business,  this,"  he  said,  "to  you  and 
me,  for  I  take  it  that  you,  like  myself,  were  brought 
up  in  a  middle-class  way  by  quiet  and  God-fearing 
parents.  Here  we  are  with  a  lot  of  young  people 
doing  a  thing  which  my  father  would  have  heartily 


LONDON  LAVENDER  135 

disapproved  of,  and  which  we  should  have  the  greatest 
difficulty  in  defending  if  we  were  accused  of  it  in 
public  by  a  professional  religious  man  or  enthusiastic 
philanthropist.  You,  of  course,  would  have  a  com- 
paratively easy  time.  You  would  come  out  merely 
as  a  retired  gentleman  from  abroad  who  was 
interested  in  social  customs.  But  I  —  I  am  a 
Government  servant  and  the  father  of  a  young  girl 
who  is  going  to  marry  this  racing  habitue.  What 
sort  of  a  case  should  I  have  ?  " 

"Well,  if  it  comes  to  that,"  I  said,  "what  sort  of 
case  does  one  ever  have  while  the  prosecution  is 
talking?  Personally,  I  always  agree  with  my  own 
censors,  although  dimly  I  am  conscious  that  there 
is  another  side  to  the  case  —  mine  —  if  only  it  could 
be  made  articulate.  All  the  same,  I  too  have  been 
considering  the  question  of  young  Heathcote.  When 
are  they  going  to  marry?" 

"I  haven't  a  notion,"  said  Sir  Gaston.  "All  I 
know  is  that  it  will  be  later  rather  than  sooner.  My 
daughter  is  out  for  what  she  calls  a  good  time  —  by 
which,  of  course,  she  means  an  irresponsible  one.  She 
has  enough  instinct  and  good  feeling  to  realize  that 
once  she  is  married  irresponsibility  will  cease.  She 
has  not  enough  emotional  dependence  to  be  impatient 
for  marriage.  Heathcote  seems  to  me  precisely 
similar  in  temperament.  Hence  I  look  upon  them 
as  two  of  the  most  enviable  creatures  living.  I  sit 
and  watch  them  at  their  superficial  jokes  and  super- 
ficial wranglings,  and  most  of  all  at  their  frivolous 


1 36  LONDON  LAVENDER 

plan-makings  for  the  morrow,  and  consider  them  the 
heirs  of  the  ages  in  the  happiest  sense.  The  best  of 
it  is  that  both  are  really  exceedingly  sensible,  and  it 
only  needs  a  shock  —  such  as  standing  at  the  altar 
steps  in  their  best  clothes,  with  a  really  serious  person 
in  a  surplice  saying  really  serious  things  —  to  steady 
them  for  life.  Ann,  who  has  already  shown  her 
capacity  for  work  and  routine,  having  learned  typing 
thoroughly  in  an  office,  will  instantly  become  a  wife 
and  Heathcote  instantly  a  husband.  He  will  adopt 
regular  habits,  come  home  to  lunch,  and  very  likely 
keep  accounts.  The  very  harmless  form  of  wild  oats 
that  they  are  sowing  now  I  don't  fear  in  the  least. 
I  should  be  much  more  alarmed  if  they  were  always 
embracing  and  whenever  they  walked  out  he  took 
her  arm  and  they  were  both  hastening  the  wedding : 
then  I  should  fear  that  the  flame  might  die  down  too 
quickly,  and  trouble  follow.  But  these  two  —  they're 
all  right.  They  have  a  public  contempt  for  each 
other  which  contains  the  best  promise." 

I  dare  say  Sir  Gaston  is  right.  He  seems  to  be 
shrewd.  But  his  remarks  caused  me  to  press  Naomi's 
hand  under  the  rug  with  more  than  usual  fondness. 

Yet  Ann  was  not  really  selfish,  even  if  she  shared 
with  her  father  a  perversity  which  made  her  willing 
to  appear  so;  for  when  once  we  found  ourselves  in 
a  block,  and  were  conscious  of  the  crying  of  a  small 
child,  with  its  mother,  father,  and  two  other  children 
in  a  donkey  barrow,  it  was  Ann  who  saved  the 
situation.    Never  have  I  heard  such  pitiful  wailing. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  137 

The  mother  was  tired  and  cross,  and  in  no  mood  to 
be  patient  with  it ;  the  father  was  cross  too,  and  the 
other  children  began  to  whimper  in  sympathy. 
Before  anyone  knew  what  she  was  about,  Ann  had 
jumped  out  of  the  car,  taken  the  child  from  its 
mother,  and  was  giving  it  one  of  Dollie's  expensive 
chocolate  creams  and  saying  pretty  crooning  things 
to  it.  The  mother  and  other  children  had  the  rest 
of  the  box,  and  in  a  short  time  all  were  happy 
again. 

''But  although  it  amuses  me  to  watch  them,"  Sir 
Gaston  continued,  "I  can't  find  much  real  satisfaction 
in  it.  My  other  daughter,  Alison,  is  completely  lost 
to  me,  except  for  letters,  for  her  husband  has  taken 
her  to  Ceylon.  And  now  Ann  is  going;  and  de- 
prived of  any  society  of  the  younger  generation, 
which,  however  it  may  irritate  us  at  times,  helps  us 
to  keep  young  and  in  touch  with  the  day  (I  can  say 
'topping'  with  the  best  of  them,  although  'wow-wow' 
is  beyond  me),  I  have  no  alternative  but  to  become 
old.  And  old  age  has  no  kind  of  attractiveness.  I 
have  no  patience  with  people  who  profess  to  enjoy 
growing  old.  They  merely  remind  one  of  those  lines 
of  the  American  poet: 

Unto  each  man  comes  a  day  when  his  favorite  sins  all  forsake 

him, 
And  he  complacently  thinks  he  has  forsaken  his  sins. 

Speaking  for  myself,  who  am  nearing  sixty,  I  would 
say  that  the  only  piece  of  satisfaction  that  the  process 


138  LONDON  LAVENDER 

of  ageing  has  brought  to  me  is  the  knowledge  that 
the  word  'unshrinkable'  has  no  real  basis  in  fact. 
But  I  do  not  call  myself  really  old  yet.  Not  till  a 
young  woman  offers  me  her  seat  in  a  railway  com- 
partment will  that  tragedy  really  be  mine.  At  that 
moment  I  shall  know  that  all  is  up." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IN  WHICH  SUSSEX  VOICES  ARE  RAISED  IN  MEL- 
ODY, UNCLE  JONAH  GIVES  HIS  MEMORY 
PLAY,  AND  WE  MEET  A  NAPOLEONIC  QUAKER 

WE  have  just  been  down  into  Sussex  to  get 
some  songs  of  which  word  had  reached  the 
Director,  whose  passion  is  the  search  for  these  ancient 
melodies.  Where  others  hunt  hares  or  foxes,  he 
pursues  the  elusive  ditty.  Village  after  village  he 
draws  blank,  without  ever  losing  heart,  and  then  is 
rewarded  by  hearing  at  last  of  some  old  gaffer  to  be 
met  with  at  the  Red  Lion  or  Blue  Boar  or  King's 
Head,  no  matter  how  far  away,  who  once  sang  a  rare 
good  song  and  can  still  quaver  out  the  ghost  of  it. 
Then  the  Director  rises  to  his  greatest  heights,  for 
although  deep  potations  and  himself  are  at  enmity, 
yet  in  the  interests  of  England  and  music  he  has  had 
(to  allay  suspicion)  to  consume  much  ale  and  stand 
ever  so  much  more  before  the  melodist  was  ready  to 
begin. 

Of  course,  not  all  his  singers  are  in  inns ;  he  has 
found  many  in  cottages,  too ;  but  the  village  public- 
house  naturally  remains  the  happiest  hunting-ground. 

139 


140  LONDON  LAVENDER 

On  this  occasion  we  were  bound  for  a  private  house 
to  which  the  singer  had  been  bidden.  The  party 
consisted  of  the  Director  of  course  with  his  little 
musical  notebook,  Naomi,  and  I.  My  duty  was  to 
take  down  the  words,  a  far  more  difficult  task,  as  I 
have  pointed  out  again  and  again,  than  to  get  the 
music,  because  all  the  words  are  different,  whereas, 
the  tune  is  the  same  all  through.  An  added  difficulty 
for  the  word-transcriber  is  the  fact  that  old  Sussex 
labourers  have  few  or  no  teeth,  and  Heaven  alone 
knows  what  sometimes  they  sing:  certainly  they 
themselves  do  not. 

We  were  driven  from  the  station  in  the  dark  to  a 
rambling  house  under  the  hills,  and  having  dined  were 
led  to  another  room  in  which  three  elderly  brothers 
were  seated  and  one  brother's  wife.  Two  were  shep- 
herds, one  of  whom  —  Uncle  Jonah  —  still  retained 
the  round,  or  smock,  frock.  This  one,  I  am  pleased 
to  record,  could  not  read,  nor  could  his  younger 
brother,  the  married  one,  but  the  elder  brother  and 
the  younger  brother's  wife  were  "  scholards."  The 
elder  brother  was  the  chief  singer,  and  while  the 
others  played  a  little  at  backwardness,  he  was  always 
ready  with  whatever  song  he  could  remember :  a  tall 
man  about  sixty-seven,  with  a  ruddy,  rather  mis- 
chievous face  fringed  with  whiskers,  and  a  gentle  sly 
humour.  He  and  the  shepherd  were  the  pick;  the 
younger  brother  was  slower  and  more  stolid. 

It  was  a  successful  evening  in  that  it  yielded  six 
or   seven   songs    that   the   Director   had   not   heard 


LONDON  LAVENDER  141 

before,  although  the  quality,  he  said,  was  not  equal 
to  that  of  the  West  Country.  Why,  when  we  all 
equally  have  the  gift  of  speech,  there  is  this  capacious- 
ness in  the  bestowal  of  the  gift  of  song,  is  a  problem  and 
anomaly  that  have  always  perplexed  and  irritated  me. 
Why  should  one  human  throat  be  melodious,  and 
another  —  my  own,  for  example  —  emit  nothing  but 
dissonance  ?  Again,  why  should  one  human  creature 
with  a  voice  be  willing  to  use  it,  and  another  hide  the 
gift  under  a  bushel  of  self-consciousness?  But  the 
Director  has  a  way  with  the  shy  that  sooner  or 
later  prevails.  He  too  begins  to  sing,  and  by-and-bye 
the  shy  enter  in,  and  then  gradually  the  Director 
drops  out  and  the  shy  sing  on  alone  and  never  falter 
again. 

If  the  Director's  methods  were  bewildering  to  me, 
what  must  they  have  been  to  these  simple  folk? 
For  he  takes  out  pencil  and  his  little  notebook  ruled 
with  staves,  and  the  instant  the  singer  has  done 
he  can  go  to  the  piano  and  play  the  song  word  for 
word,  with  all  its  peculiarities  of  [movement,  its 
hurryings  and  pauses,  its  unexpected  cadences,  its 
curious  melancholy.  Magic,  surely !  I  can  just 
begin  to  understand  shorthand,  but  not  this  mystery. 
During  the  first  verse  he  sits  intent,  with  his  pencil 
poised  over  the  paper,  waiting  to  strike.  During  the 
second  verse  he  is  recording  all  the  time.  During 
the  third  he  makes  little  refining  touches,  and  the 
tune  is  complete. 

The   words,    taken   separately,    were   my   depart- 


142 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


ment.  The  words  of  folk-songs  without  music  are 
always  far  enough  removed  from  melody,  but  the 
ditty  which  I  copy  here,  which  we  may  call  "Winter's 
Signs,"  is,  I  think,  the  farthest  removed  of  all,  although 
as  a  piece  of  bleak  impressionism  it  is  good :  indeed, 
rather  like  an  etching ;  and  yet,  as  sung  by  this  old 
man,  with  his  soft  musical  quavers,  it  was  not  only 
beautiful  but  hauntingly  so.  The  words  are  exactly 
as  he  had  them,  all  unconscious  that  they  made 
contradictions  and  have  neither  scansion  nor  rhyme. 
Here  they  are : 

The  trees  they're  all  bare,  not  one  leaf  to  be  seen, 

The  meadows  their  beauty's  all  gone. 
And  as  for  the  leaves,  they're  falling  from  the  trees 

And  the  streams  they  were  —  and  the  streams  they  were — fast 
bound  by  the  frost. 

In  the  yards  where  the  oxen  all  foddered  with  straw 

Send  forth  their  breath  like  a  stream, 
The  sweet-looking  milkmaid  she  finds  she  must  go ; 

Flakes  of  ice  finds  she  —  flakes  of  ice  finds  she  —  on  her 
cream. 

The  poor  little  small  birds  to  the  barn  doors  fly  for  food, 

Silent  they  rest  on  the  spray, 
The  poor  innocent  sheep  from  the  Downs  until  the  fold 

With  their  fleeces  all  —  with  their  fleeces  all  —  covered  with 
snow. 

The  poor  little  pigeon  all  shivering  with  cold, 

So  loud  the  north  winds  do  blow ; 
The  poor  tiny  hares  search  the  woods  all  for  their  food 

Unless  their  footsteps  their  —  unless  their  footsteps  their  — 
innocence  betray. 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


143 


Now  Christmas  is  gone  my  song  is  almost  sung, 

Soon  will  come  the  springtime  of  the  year, 
Come  unto  me  the  glass  and  let  your  health  go  round 

And  we  wish  you  a  —  and  we  wish  you  a  —  happy  New  Year. 

That,  as  I  have  said,  is  poor  stuff,  although  it 
successfully  carries  its  wintry  feeling ;  but  now  try  it 
with  the  music. 


*5 


&3E3E 


i^5 


S 


-3tr~lT=3CL 


4= 


The  trees  they're  all  bare,     not  one  leaf    to     be  seen;  The 


§1 


3^^ 


■■* — *- 


m 


=t 


mea    -   dows      their     beau 


ty's        all      gone;     And 


3r: 


-=> * — » 


m 


EE=E 


'±uf-- 


1 


as      for  the  leaves     they're       fall  -  ing     from    the        trees, 


^ 


t 


§3E$EEE£ 


J-;: 


And      the   streams  they      were, 


And     the  streams  they 


:zan 


were 


fast 


bound 


by 


the       frost. 


I  assure  you  that  the  old  man's  gentle  caressing 
voice  when  singing  about  the  poor  little  pigeon,  the 
poor  innocent  sheep,  and  the  poor  tiny  hares,  made 
the  situation  absolutely  poignant. 

One  other  of  the  songs  I  am  tempted  to  reproduce : 
this  also  with  an  innocent  hare  in  it;  a  hunting 
song.     There  is  something  rather  pretty  about  the 


144 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


willingness  of  the  poor  to  sing  hunting-songs  —  to 
praise  a  sport  which  exists  wholly  for  their  masters 
and  in  which  they  cannot  participate.  At  the  most 
they  see  the  horsemen  and  hounds  go  by  and  hear 
the  horn  and  the  shouts;  even  the  hare  falls  to  the 
pack.  But  the  English  peasant  is  not  envious.  He 
accepts  his  lot  quite  simply  and  naturally,  and  after 
a  long  day's  work  in  the  fields  and  the  rain,  for  in- 
sufficient shillings  to  add  meat  to  the  family  table, 
is  quite  cheerfully  ready  to  lift  up  his  voice  in  praise 
of  the  sport  which  his  roystering  master  has  been 
enjoying.      So  let  it  be :    I  am  merely  recording  the 

fact. 

Here   is   the   merriest   and    most   tuneful    of    the 
hunting-songs. 


Bfc 


Ye 


■^ 


£3= 


1 


sports- men,     rouse 


the 


morn  -  ing     fair,     The 


larks 


are 


sing 


ing 


air; 


=fc 


tell    your  sweet  lover 


# 


the     hounds      are 


out, 


z£z 


3c 


Go 


:*=*= 


tell  your  sweet  lover  the  hounds  are  out;  Saddle  your  hor  -  ses,  your 


m 


^ 


-J*=£z 


^zzfl 


sad-dies  pre-pare,    A  -  way  to  the  covers  to    look  for     a  hare. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  145 

We  searched  the  fields  that  grows  around, 

Our  trail  is  lost,  our  game  is  found, 

Then  out  she  springs,  through  brake  she  flies, 

Then  out  she  springs,  through  brake  she  flies. 

Follow,  follow  the  musical  horn, 

Sing  follow,  hark  follow,  the  innocent  hare. 

Our  horses  go  galloping  over  the  ground. 
Go  breathing  all  after  the  torturing  hound. 
Such  a  game  she  has  led  us  four  hours  or  more, 
Such  a  game  she  has  led  us  four  hours  or  more, 
Follow,  follow  the  musical  horn, 
Sing  follow,  hark  follow,  the  innocent  hare. 

Our  huntsman  blows  the  joyful  sound, 
See  how  he  scours  over  the  ground. 
Our  hare's  a  sinking,  see  how  she  creeps, 
Our  hare's  a  sinking,  see  how  she  creeps, 
Follow,  follow,  the  musical  horn, 
Sing  follow,  hark  follow,  the  innocent  hare. 

All  on  the  green  turf  she  pants  for  breath, 
Our  huntsman  shouts  out  for  death. 
Hullo,  hullo,  we've  tired  our  hare, 
Hullo,  hullo,  we've  tired  our  hare. 
Wine  and  beer  we'll  drink  without  fear, 
We'll  drink  success  to  the  innocent  hare. 

The  last  line  has  an  irony  which  no  one  seemed 
to  see. 

I  must  confess  that  a  whole  evening  of  song  is  to 
me  full  measure,  and  I  took  all  the  opportunities  I 
could  of  getting  Uncle  Jonah,  the  voiceless  shepherd 
in  the  smock,  to  talk  of  old  times ;  but  always  with  the 
fear  of  the  Director  very  lively  in  me.  For  anecdot- 
ic  • 


146  LONDON  LAVENDER 

age  is  nothing  to  him.  His  purpose  in  life  is  to  fill 
blank  bars  with  little  magical  dots;  for  this  and  this 
only  does  he  scour  the  coloured  counties.  All  con- 
versation is  therefore  an  interruption,  if  not  a  mis- 
demeanour. But  when  the  singers,  having  sung  all 
that  the  Director  did  not  know,  began  to  respond 
with  songs  that  he  did,  I  openly  drew  Uncle  Jonah 
aside  and  filled  again  his  glass  and  made  certain 
masonic  signs  to  indicate  that  though  no  doubt  the 
Director  was  a  worthy  and  even  gifted  man,  here 
was  one  who  sympathized  with  those  who  had  no 
music  in  them,  but  preferred  character  and  comedy 
in  the  blessed  spoken  word. 

Old  shepherds  are  peculiarly  the  treasuries  of 
reminiscences  of  eccentric  and  historic  figures  of  the 
country-side :  such  as  Charley  Dean,  over  at  Coombe 
Place,  who  would  ride  his  horse  down  the  steepest 
slopes  of  the  hills  when  hunting,  so  that  you  could 
see  slide-marks  several  yards  long  afterwards  —  a 
"  terrible  daring  rider  he  was  "  ;  and  old  David  Wade, 
over  at  Madingdean,  who  did  his  own  farriery  work 
and  mended  his  grey  mare's  broken  leg  so  out  an' 
out  cleverly  that  he  won  a  Point  to  Point  steeple- 
chase on  her  the  next  year;  and  Tom  Woolley,  over 
at  West  Green,  whose  lifelong  feud  with  the  Gipos 
(or  gipsies),  who  stole  his  chickens  and  cut  his  gorse 
for  umbrella  handles,  drove  him,  with  the  assistance 
of  strong  drink,  off  his  head,  so  that  he  attacked 
every  stranger  with  his  stick  and  had  to  be  kept  in 
one  room,  the  barred  window  of  which  is  still  to  be 


LONDON  LAVENDER  147 

seen,  while  Mrs.  Woolley  made  the  farm  pay  as  it 
had  never  paid  before. 

But  best  I  liked  his  tales  of  his  first  master  —  dead 
now  these  many  years  —  over  at  Bollingdean.  A 
good  man,  a  just  man,  and  kind  to  the  poor,  but 
terrible  hard  and  cautious.  A  Quaker.  Couldn't 
bear  to  be  kept  waiting.  Everything  must  be  right. 
He  used  to  lend  money  to  smaller  men  now  and 
then  —  he  was  a  big  maltster  himself,  with  a  small 
farm  just  for  his  own  amusement  —  and  one  market 
day  one  of  these  debtors — Mr.Raikes,  the  ironmonger 
—  was  to  meet  him  at  the  Black  Horse  yard  at  three 
o'clock  to  pay  him  one  hundred  pounds  and  clear  off 
his  debt.  That  was  a  Wednesday.  The  trap  was  ready ; 
the  Master  and  his  nephew  came  into  the  yard ;  the 
Master  looked  at  his  watch,  and  precisely  at  three 
whipped  up  and  away.  Uncle  Jonah  —  then  a  small 
stable-boy  —  was  sitting  behind,  and  as  the  trap  sped 
along  the  High  Street  towards  home  he  noticed  Mr. 
Raikes  running  after  it.  He  ventured  to  tell  his 
master,  who  at  once  stopped. 

Mr.  Raikes  came  panting  up.  "Here  you  are,  Mr. 
Willing,"  he  gasped,  proffering  a  canvas  bag.  "I'm 
sorry  I  missed  you,  but  I  had  a  customer." 

"What  is  it  in  the  bag?"  Mr.  Willing  asked. 

"The  money,"  said  Mr.  Raikes. 

"The  Master  took  out  his  watch  and  turned  to  his 
nephew.  'I  had  no  appointment,  had  I,'  he  asked,  '  to 
see  anyone  about  money  in  the  High  Street  at  five 
minutes  past  three  ?    No,  Mr.  Raikes,  not  here.    I'll 


148  LONDON  LAVENDER 

see  thee  in  thy  shop  next  market  day;'  and  off  we 
went,  leaving  Mr.  Raikes  with  his  mouth  open  in  the 
middle  of  the  street. 

"When  we  got  home,  the  Master  said  to  his 
nephew,  'Take  thy  pencil  and  work  out  the  interest 
at  five  per  cent,  on  one  hundred  pounds  for  one  week 
and  let  me  know  what  it  is.'  Well,  he  did  it  and  it 
came  to  one  and  elevenpence,  and  blowed  if  the 
Master  didn't  make  Raikes  pay  the  one  and  eleven- 
pence extra  the  next  week  and  send  it  to  the  local 
hospital.     That  was  what  he  was  like. 

"Another  time,"  Uncle  Jonah  went  on,  talking  in 
broad  Sussex,  which  I  make  no  effort  to  reproduce, 
"a  poor  tramping  woman  gave  birth  to  a  baby  under 
a  hedge  on  his  land.  She  was  found  in  the  morning 
and  the  Master  was  told  about  it.  He  asked  exactly 
where  she  was  and  then  gave  orders  for  her  to  be 
carried  into  the  Eight  Acre  barn  and  the  doctor  sent 
for. 

"'But  the  Low  Bottom  barn's  a  matter  of  a  mile 
nearer,'  said  the  man,  'and  it's  empty  too.' 

"'Do  as  I  tell  thee,'  said  the  Master,  'and  let  me 
know  directly  she  is  comfortable  there  and  thy 
mistress  will  send  her  some  soup  from  the  house  and 
go  and  see  her.' 

"Well,  we  carried  her  there.  It  was  too  soft  for 
a  cart,  so  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  place  her 
on  some  straw  on  a  hurdle  and  carry  her  every  inch 
of  the  way.  I  helped,  and  my  arms  ache  to  this 
minute  when  I  think  of  it.     And  the  worst  of  it  was 


LONDON  LAVENDER  149 

we  had  to  go  past  the  other  barn,  which  was  all 
warm  and  snug,  only  a  few  yards  away.  You  may 
be  sure  that  we  talked  about  what  the  Master  was  up 
to.  But  we  weren't  clever  enough  to  guess  right, 
not  we. 

"Directly  she  was  comfortable  I  was  sent  back  to 
tell  the  Master,  and  he  himself  drove  off  to  fetch  the 
doctor ;  and  by-and-bye  they  came  back  together  and 
the  doctor  did  what  he  could  for  her  and  went  off 
home  to  fill  up  the  birth  certificate.  It  wasn't  for 
some  time  afterwards,"  said  Uncle  Jonah,  "that  we 
learned  why  we  had  to  carry  her  all  that  way.  Can 
you  guess  why  it  was?"  Uncle  Jonah  asked;  but  I 
had  no  notion. 

"Why,"  he  said,  "the  Master's  farm  was  in  two 
parishes  —  Arringly  and  Thangmer  —  but  only  a  little 
tiny  corner  where  the  barn  stood  was  in  Thangmer. 
All  the  rest  was  in  Arringly,  and  so  he  had  her  carried 
to  the  barn  so  that  the  child  should  be  registered  as 
born  in  Thangmer  parish  and  not  be  on  the  Arringly 
rates.  '  For,'  as  he  said, '  we  don't  want  more  pauper 
children  than  we  can  help  in  Arringly.'  That's  the 
sort  of  man  he  was;  looked  ahead  and  took  every- 
thing into  account." 

Uncle  Jonah  told  also  of  his  own  experiences  in 
driving  large  flocks  of  sheep  or  lambs  to  distant 
markets  in  the  country  when  he  was  a  lad ;  and  how 
they  had  to  work  out  the  route  beforehand  with  great 
care  so  as  to  have  as  few  turnpike  gates  to  pass 
through  as  possible. 


150  LONDON  LAVENDER 

I  asked  him  how  much  they  had  to  pay  for  lambs 
to  go  through. 

"Fippence  a  score,"  he  said. 

We  did  not  break  up  till  after  midnight.  To  me 
the  evening  harvest  of  song  seemed  to  be  rather 
notable;  but  the  Director  knew  better.  Sussex  is 
not  a  distinguished  singing  country,  he  explained. 
Somerset  is  the  happiest  hunting-ground.  There 
they  sing  sweetest  and  have  the  best  songs.  By  the 
time  a  good  song  reaches  Sussex  it  is  debased. 
Sussex  has  no  style.  But  Somerset  is  full  of  style. 
This,  surely,  is  very  odd,  and  the  Director  offers  no 
theories  to  explain  it.  He  would  like  to,  but  he 
cannot;  he  is  not  a  sociologist,  he  says,  or  an  eth- 
nologist, or  a  psychologist ;  he  is  merely  a  collector  and 
preserver  of  the  best  old  English  songs  that  he  has 
the  fortune  to  hear.  Well,  I  would  rather  be  that 
than  an  "ist"  of  any  calibre.  I  consider  him  to  have 
done  and  to  be  doing  one  of  the  finest  things  any 
Englishman  has  ever  done:  a  piece  of  the  most 
exquisite  patriotism ;  and  I  am  proud  to  be  of  assist- 
ance in  the  cause. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

IN  WHICH  INADVERTENTLY  I  BECOME  A  PUB- 
LIC CHARACTER  AND,  ALSO  INADVERTENTLY, 
GIVE  AN  OPPORTUNIST  AN  IDEA 

MR.  FURLEY  overtaking  me  recently  on  my 
way  into  London  asked  if  I  should  be  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Parliament  Square  about  a  quarter 
to  three. 

"Be  there  if  you  can,"  he  said. 

As  it  happened  I  was  lunching  at  Queen  Anne's 
Gate,  and  so  I  did  pass  through  the  square  at  the 
time  named,  glanced  at  our  legislators  —  or  at  men 
who  wished  to  look  like  our  legislators  and  be  taken 
for  them,  and,  as  far  as  I  was  concerned,  succeeded  — 
entering  the  House,  and  so  went  on  to  Chelsea, 
whither  I  was  bound,  by  the  Embankment. 

The  next  day  Mr.  Furley  sent  down  a  note  to 
Naomi  asking  her  to  be  sure  to  drop  in  at  the 
Shakespeare  Electric  Theatre  (shameless  name  !)  in 
Tottenham  Court  Road,  if  she  was  in  that  neighbour- 
hood. So  we  both  dropped  in,  and  there,  suddenly, 
as  a  series  of  pictures  representing  the  meeting  of 
Parliament  on  the  day  of  the  great  debate  was  thrown 
upon  the  screen,  my  blood  turned  cold,  for  among 

151 


1S2 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


the  other  passers-by  I  saw  myself.  No  one  who  has 
ever  seen  himself  walk  is  likely  to  get  over  the  shock, 
especially  in  the  slightly  accelerated  gait  of  the 
cinema.  Swift's  " forked  radish"  does  not  compare 
as  a  reminder  of  littleness  and  mortality,  and  I  am 
now  convinced  that  Parliament  should  be  approached 
either  in  cabs  or  on  roller  skates. 

One  sometimes  wonders  if  the  New  World  was  not 
invented  to  destroy  the  mental  balance  of  the  Old. 
There  is  something  sinister  in  the  thought  that 
America  was  discovered  in  the  year  that  Lorenzo 
de'  Medici  died.  With  Lorenzo V  life  the  richest 
period  of  generous  and  stimulating  intellectual 
activity  that  man  has  seen  —  that  revival  of  art  and 
learning  which  we  call  the  Renaissance  —  may  be  said 
to  have  come  to  an  end.  At  that  moment  Columbus 
ran  his  prow  against  the  land  which  was  to  produce 
in  its  greatest  profusion  everything  which  Giotto  and 
his  followers  would  most  cordially  condemn.  Sitting 
in  this  picture  palace,  where  my  own  gauche  contours 
had  been  so  disconcertingly  sprung  upon  me,  and 
watching  scenes  comic  and  scenes  dramatic,  carefully 
built  up  false  stories  of  wild  life  and  so  forth,  all 
passing  dazzlingly  across  the  sheet  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  a  clockwork  obbligato  and  a  piano,  and  all 
due  to  that  amazing  Edisonian  inventiveness,  I 
realized  for  the  first  time  what  a  menace  to  human 
endeavour  it  has  the  chance  of  becoming,  and  how 
opposed  to  the  humanist  spirit.  How  many  picture 
palaces  London  boasts  I  have  no  notion,  but  let  us 


LONDON  LAVENDER  153 

say  at  a  hazard  two  hundred.  Each  is  open  from 
noon  till  eleven  at  night  continuously,  and  each  con- 
tains daily,  let  us  say,  six  hundred  persons.  These 
figures  are  probably  far  too  low,  but  they  will  serve. 
That  makes  twelve  thousand  persons  for  every  day 
of  the  year  (for  they  open  on  Sundays),  in  London 
alone,  watching  a  mechanical  device  which  illustrates 
the  activities  of  others.  Not  an  ounce  of  personality 
-  just  sheer  hard  mechanism,  whose  only  purpose  is 
to  beguile,  to  prevent  thought. 

I  have  not  said  all  this  to  Mr.  Furley,  but  if  I  did 
he  would  agree  with  me ;  for,  like  all  men  who  derive 
their  livelihood  from  concerns  that  exist  for  the 
amusement  of  their  fellows,  he  is  a  cynic. 

The  next  time  I  met  him  after  the  Tottenham 
Court  Road  experience  he  had  an  amused  expression. 
"How  did  you  like  it  ? "  he  inquired. 

"It  was  horrible,"  I  said.  "But  where  was  your 
photographer  ?     I  saw  no  one  about." 

He  laughed.  "Did  you  notice  a  small  furniture 
van  pulled  up  at  the  side  of  the  road?"  he  asked. 
"If  you  had  examined  it  closely  you  would  have 
noticed  a  little  hole  at  the  back.  The  photographer 
was  inside  and  the  camera  was  at  that  hole." 

We  were  walking  through  Regent's  Park  at  the 
time  of  this  conversation  and  suddenly  I  sneezed, 
and  I  can  sneeze  louder  than  most  men.  It  was 
fortunate  I  did  so,  for  it  showed  me  Mr.  Furley's 
brain  in  action.     He  stopped  dead. 

"By  Jove,"  he  said,  "there's  an  idea  !" 


154  LONDON  LAVENDER 

I  asked  him  to  explain. 

"Why,"  he  said,  "for  a  film.  A  comic  one.  'Mr. 
Splodgers  catches  cold,'  or,  if  you  like,  'The  Fatal 
Sneeze.'  You  begin  with  Mr.  Splodgers  being  caught 
in  a  shower  and  drenched;  or  falling  into  a  river 
would  perhaps  be  better.  Anyhow,  he  gets  wet 
through.  Then  you  show  him  trying  to  prevent  a 
cold.  He  tries  everything,  including  the  home 
Turkish  bath,  but  in  vain ;  the  cold  comes  on.  You 
see  him  in  a  sneezing-fit.  The  first  sneeze  brings 
down  the  chandelier,  the  second  the  bookcase,  the 
third  all  the  ornaments  on  the  mantelpiece,  the  fourth 
the  ceiling  itself,  and  so  on.  It  will  be  great.  I'll 
arrange  it  right  away.  How  would  you  like  to  be 
Mr.  Splodgers?" 

I  declined. 

"I  must  pay  you  for  the  idea,  anyway,"  Mr.  Furley 
continued.  "What  do  you  think  would  be  fair? 
Five  guineas?" 

"No,"  I  said ;  "the  idea  was  yours.  All  that  I  did 
was  to  sneeze.     I  make  you  a  present  of  it." 

But  you  can't  make  a  free  gift  to  men  like  that. 
Although  I  was  at  home  again  in  less  than  two  hours 
I  could  not  beat  Mr.  Furley's  sense  of  reciprocity, 
and  on  my  table  was  a  package  containing  a  hundred 
of  the  choicest  cigars  I  ever  owned. 


CHAPTER  XX 

IN  WHICH  A  NUMBER  OF  CRAFTSMEN  DISCUSS 
THEIR  PRACTICES,  AND  MR.  LACEY  DEFINES 
THE  THINGS  THAT   MATTER 

I  TOOK  Lacey  to  the  novelists'  evening  at 
Dabney's.  "We'll  just  sit  in  a  corner,"  I  said, 
"and  listen  through  the  smoke.  Unless,  of  course, 
you  want  to  join  in  :  I  am  quite  certain  I  shall  not." 

"I  shall  join  in  if  anyone  is  talking  rubbish,  of 
course,"  said  Lacey  quite  simply,  "just  to  put  him 
right." 

How  jolly  to  be  as  sure  of  oneself  as  that ! 

"Well,"  I  said,  "I  shall  be  silent.  In  fact,  I  have 
to  be ;  because  when  I  argue  I  am  always  converted, 
and  that  is  so  humiliating ;  or,  at  any  rate,  I  recognize 
the  truth  in  the  other  side's  position.  That  is  one 
disability;  and  another  is  that  I  am  never  sure  of 
my  spoken  words.  Give  me  a  pen  and  whatever  I 
say  I  will  stand  by ;  but  when  I  talk  I  get  led  away." 

"We  must  each  go  our  way,"  said  Lacey,  "but, 
personally,  when  I  rind  a  man  talking  nonsense  I 
sling  him  up." 

Dabney's  room  was  in  full  buzz  when  we  arrived. 
Among  the  big  guns  present  were  Devon,  the  urbane 

*55 


156  LONDON  LAVENDER 

reformer,  with  his  warm  heart,  passionate  sense  of  jus- 
tice, his  universal  pity  and  fastidious  taste ;  Speyde, 
the  uncompromising  analyst  of  the  body  and  mind  in 
revolt,  and  the  friend  of  freedom ;  Leigh,  the  sentimen- 
tal humorist  or  humorous  sentimentalist  of  middle- 
class  London;  and  Sankville,  who  writes  provincial 
epics  with  a  Dutch  brush,  but  with  the  expansive  view 
and  detached  tolerance  of  an  arbiter  throned  on  a  star. 

These  were  the  best  known ;  but  there  were  others: 
younger  men  feeling  their  way  towards  fiction,  some 
independent,  some  still  wondering  whom  it  would  be 
wisest  to  imitate.  Twenty  years  ago  there  was  no 
doubt,  since  all  the  manuscript  babies,  when  at  last 
they  were  born,  had  a  way  of  resembling  Stevenson ; 
but  to-day  there  are  new  influences.  Sankville,  him- 
self, for  example,  is  one,  and  a  powerful  one.  Every- 
one will  soon  be  describing  provincial  birthplaces  with 
minute  fidelity  —  and  nothing  else  !  Speyde's  manner 
and  method  it  is  less  easy  to  catch :  he  is  intensely 
individual ;  he  has  had  no  predecessors  and  will  leave 
no  school  of  writers.  His  influence  is  rather  upon  life 
than  upon  his  own  craft.  Devon,  again,  is  idiosyn- 
cratic. The  appeal  of  his  work  is  so  largely  dependent 
upon  his  point  of  view ;  and  points  of  view  are  the 
only  safe  thing  left :  imitators  have  to  be  wary  in  steal- 
ing them.  It  is  when  manner  and  matter  are  both 
straightforward  that  the  imitators  have  their  most 
profitable  time.  Look,  for  example,  at  The  Prisoner 
of  Zendc,  what  a  progeny  has  that  romance  ! 

Novel-writing  has  become  a  habit.     Men  used  to 


\ 


LONDON  LAVENDER  157 

write  novels  to  amuse  their  fellow-creatures  —  to  take 
tired  people  to  the  islands  of  the  blest,  as  one  of  our 
finest  living  hands  has  put  it  —  but  to-day  novel-writ- 
ing has  become  a  habit,  resorted  to  for  many  different 
reasons.  Some  men  write  novels  because  they  have 
got  into  a  mess  with  a  woman  and  want  to  see  how 
it  looks  on  paper,  or  to  explain  their  real  motives,  or 
to  find  a  way  out.  Other  novels  are  really  intimate 
letters  intended  for  one  reader  only.  Others  —  and 
these  are  largely  those  written  by  women  —  create  the 
kind  of  life  which  the  writer  would  have  lived  had  she 
ever  had  the  chance :  exercises  in  what  may  be  called 
the  Consolation  School  of  Fiction.  But  the  greatest 
number  are  written  because  someone  else  wrote 
better,  and  the  imitative  faculty  is  so  strong  in  us. 

Of  course  there  is  only  one  thing  for  a  novelist  to 
be,  and  that  is  himself.  But  one  has  to  attain  a 
certain  age  to  know  that.  To  try  to  write  in  anyone 
else's  manner  is  fatal.  To  novelists  who  have  not 
the  courage  or  the  conceit  to  be  themselves,  but  who 
try  to  infuse  a  popular  element  into  their  work,  I 
would  give  this  advice,  "Do  what  you  can  as  well 
as  you  can,  and  let  the  others  do  what  you  can't, 
without  envying  them."  And  when  they  have 
succeeded  I  would  go  to  them  again  and  say,  "Never 
have  the  faintest  fear  of  a  copyist." 

Devon  and  Sankville  not  only  were  novelists  but 
successful  dramatists  too;  but  Speyde  had  had  no 
luck  with  the  stage. 

"How  you  can  do  it,  I  can't  think,"  he  said.     "It's 


158  LONDON  LAVENDER 

a  new  language,  a  new  world.  Everything  that  one 
has  learnt  has  to  be  forgotten.  The  things  that 
should  be  whispered  have  to  be  shouted.  At  least, 
that  is  what  the  stage-managers  and  producers  say, 
and  since  you  are  in  their  hands  you  have  to  believe 
it.  But  no  more  of  it  for  me ;  I  have  done  with  lime- 
light. Of  course  it's  all  right  for  Devon,  because  he's 
a  homilist.  Anyone  with  a  lesson  to  teach  can  dis- 
regard conventions  or  accept  them." 

"That's  all  very  well,"  said  Devon,  "but  I  must 
decline  to  be  isolated  as  the  one  dramatist  who  has 
a  moral  to  enforce.     All  the  best  dramatists  have." 

"Of  course,"  said  Sankville,  "every  Englishman  is 
a  Puritan  at  heart,  in  so  far  as  he  prefers  that  every- 
one else  should  be  virtuous.  Hence  when  he  writes 
a  play  it  naturally  makes  for  virtue.  The  study  of 
our  neighbour's  conduct  is  the  national  profession. 
It  also  forms  the  material  of  every  play  and  every 
novel." 

"And  every  newspaper,"  said  Leigh. 

"Of  course  —  every  newspaper,  and  every  weekly 
review,  doesn't  it,  Dabney?"  Sankville  replied. 

"I  suppose  so,"  Dabney  said;  "but,  at  any  rate, 
newspaper  men  don't  pretend  to  do  more  than  record 
results.  They  make  no  claim,  as  you  novelists  and 
dramatists  do,  to  be  able  to  read  the  heart  and 
discern  the  springs  of  action  and  all  the  rest  of  it." 

"Well,  and  can't  we?"  Sankville  asked. 
"  Of  course  you  can't,"  said  Dabney.     "  It  was 
at   once   one   of   the   kindest   and   cruellest  things 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


159 


that  Heaven  ever  did  to  deny  to  human  beings  all 
capacity  for  really  knowing  anything  about  other 
human  beings.  You  fellows  can  deceive  us  by  your 
art  into  the  illusion  that  you  know;  but  that's  all. 
Nobody  knows.  There's  only  one  way,  I  take  it,  to 
write  a  psychological  novel,  and  that  is  to  proceed 
from  yourself  outwards.  Done  with  courage  and 
fidelity,  that  might  give  us  one  character  that 
approximated  to  life;  but  you  fellows  crowd  a 
hundred  characters  into  each  book.  Someone  once 
said,  as  a  joke,  that  the  way  to  write  a  novel  was  to 
make  all  the  characters  behave  exactly  as  the  author 
would,  because  we're  all  exactly  alike,  except  that 
you  yourself  are  a  shade  more  imaginative  and 
sensitive  than  anybody  else.  That  was  intended 
ironically,  but  I  don't  see  any  fault  in  it  as  a  piece 
of  practical  advice.  It  has  been  successfully  enough 
followed.  But  the  result  is  not  good  enough  —  except 
as  saleable  stuff  calculated  to  provide  you  with  a 
motor-car,  or  a  rock-garden,  or  whatever  else  you 
want. 

"It  is  because  no  one  can  really  know  others  and 
can  only  guess  at  himself  in  imaginary  situations," 
Dabney  continued,  "that  I  think  all  this  recurring 
talk  about  absolute  freedom  for  the  novelist  is  such 
rot.  Speyde  here  is  always  claiming  for  the  novelist 
an  unfettered  hand.  Everything,  he  says,  must  be 
told.  We  must  have  full-lengths;  not  mere  heads 
or  kit-cats  any  more.  For  too  long  had  novelists 
suffered  under  the  restrictions  placed  upon  them  by 


160  LONDON  LAVENDER 

Mrs.  Grundy  and  the  circulating  libraries.  No  story 
of  a  man's  or  woman's  life  is  worth  telling  unless 
it  tells  all;  and  so  on.  But,  in  my  capacity  as  a 
provocative  host,  let  me  say  I  don't  give  a  row  of 
pins  for  it." 

"Nor  I,"  Lacey  burst  in.  "If  that's  what  the  new 
novel  is  to  be  I  shall  return  to  my  Dickens  with  the 
greater  pleasure." 

Speyde  was  indignant.  "We  are  talking  about 
novels,"  he  said:  "documents.  Not  panoramas. 
Dickens  doesn't  count  here.  Thackeray  might  have 
counted  if  he'd  had  a  chance.  You  remember  his 
complaint  that  since  Fielding  no  one  had  been 
allowed  to  draw  a  whole  man." 

"Thackeray  did  very  well  without  the  dispensa- 
tion," said  Dabney.  "As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  doubt 
if  he  could  have  gone  further  than  he  did ;  I  doubt 
if  anyone  can  go  further  than  he  does  go :  we  all  do 
our  damnedest.  I  have  always  rather  suspected  that 
remark  of  Thackeray's:  it  was  one  of  those  hasty 
things  which  great  men  say  and  forget  and  some 
little  twopenny-halfpenny  listener  remembers  and 
sets  down  for  ever.  Given  any  imagination  in  the 
reader,  he  knows  as  much  about  Mr.  Arthur 
Pendennis  as  there  is  any  need  for  him  to  know,  and 
surely  you  will  admit  that  a  novel  is  the  work  of  the 
reader  as  well  as  the  author." 

"I  quite  agree,"  said  Sankville.  "A  novelist's  duty 
is  to  do  his  work  within  the  limits  imposed  upon  him. 
The  English  don't  like  certain  things  blurted  out  in 


LONDON  LAVENDER  161 

their  stories.  Very  well,  then,  the  English  novelist  had 
got  to  say  these  things  between  the  lines.  Thackeray, 
who  was  about  equally  interested  in  cause  and  effect, 
did  it  most  admirably;  Meredith,  who  was  rather 
more  interested  in  cause  than  effect,  did  it  better ; 
Dickens,  who  was  interested  only  in  effect,  left  it 
alone.  Nowadays  there  is  a  kind  of  competition 
among  novelists  as  to  which  shall  be  boldest." 

"Yes,"  said  Dabney,  "but  the  bore  of  it  is,  to  those 
of  us  who  know  anything  of  life,  that  their  boldness 
is  such  childish  business.  There  is  only  one  thing 
that  they  want  to  say,  and  we  know  exactly  what  it 
is.  When  Speyde  talks  about  full  lengths  that's  all 
he  means.  Nothing  else.  You  would  all  save  lots  of 
time  —  if  you  will  allow  a  mere  journalist  and  frivolous 
novel-reader  to  make  a  suggestion  —  if  you  put  at  the 
beginning  of  your  books  a  warning  to  the  effect  that 
the  hero,  heroine,  and  villain  who  are  to  be  met 
in  the  pages  that  follow  are  human  beings  with  the 
ordinary  emotions.  That,  after  all,  is  the  only  thing 
you  want  us  to  understand." 

"Reverting  to  that  matter  of  saying  the  more 
critically  emotional  or  physical  thing  between  the 
lines,"  said  the  quiet  voice  of  Devon,  "it  might  be 
laid  down  as  an  axiom  —  might  it  not  ?  —  that  the 
success  of  a  novelist  in  thus  conveying  these  im- 
pressions without  printing  them  is  largely  the  proof 
of  his  excellence?  It  seems  to  me  that  the  photo- 
graphic reproduction  of  life  which  Speyde  asks  for 
requires    totally    different    gifts    from    those   of    the 


1 62  LONDON  LAVENDER 

novelist.  Something  of  the  statistician ;  much  of  the 
morbid  anatomist." 

"There's  another  thing,"  said  Dabney,  "that  makes 
this  realistic  stuff  a  mistake,  and  that  is  that  the 
English  don't  want  the  truth  about  anything.  They 
never  tell  it  and  don't  want  it  told  to  them.  An 
appearance  of  truth  —  the  ghost  of  truth  —  is  all  you 
need  offer  them." 

But  Speyde  wouldn't  have  it.  "No,"  he  said. 
"English  fiction  has  got  to  be  freed,  and  the  only 
way  to  do  it  is  for  the  novelist  to  tell  the  whole  truth, 
extenuating  and  suppressing  nothing." 

"Granting  that  for  a  moment,"  said  Leigh,  "it  does 
not  even  then  follow  —  with  all  the  libraries  clamour- 
ing for  this  kind  of  minute  revelation  —  that  the  novel 
will  come ;  because  before  there  can  be  a  novel  there 
must  be  a  novelist,  and  the  novelist  required  here  is 
one  of  stupendous  genius." 

"Quite  right,"  said  Dabney,  "and  you  can  bet  that 
when  the  stupendous  genius  comes  he  will  do  exactly 
as  he  likes,  just  as,  in  fact,  Shakespeare  did,  and 
Thackeray  and  Dickens  and  Meredith  did.  It  is  the 
little  people  who  lay  down  and  obey  the  rules;  the 
big  ones,  who  use  the  vintage  inks,  go  their  own 
gait.  What  England  wants  is  not  franker  novels  but 
a  greater  novelist.  A  measure  of  frankness  is  the 
heritage  of  us  all,  although  we  have  a  way  of  neglect- 
ing it,  but  greatness  comes  capriciously,  and  you  may 
whistle  for  it  in  vain." 

"Meanwhile,"  said  Leigh,  "let's  go  on  writing  just 


LONDON  LAVENDER  163 

as  we  always  do;  because,  in  default  of  greatness, 
that  pays  best.  That  is  to  say,"  he  said,  "I  will  go 
on  with  my  London  fairy  tales ;  and  Speyde  will  go 
on  with  his  exposures  of  the  folly  of  the  marriage 
laws;  and  Devon  will  go  on  with  his  thoughtful 
gentlemen  and  ladies  in  perplexity;  and  Sankville 
will  go  on  throwing  details  in  the  eyes  of  the  public. 
Oh,  you  minutiae  men,  I  don't  believe  in  you  a  bit," 
he  continued;  "you  have  us  all  the  time.  We  don't 
know  where  we  are.  We  look  for  an  impulsive 
human  action,  and  tumble  over  the  coal-scuttle." 

Sankville  laughed.  "You  can't  visualize  people 
until  you've  got  their  surroundings,"  he  said. 

"And  then  there's  not  time,"  replied  Leigh.  "Life 
is  short,  you  know.    Art  can  be  too  long." 

"And  what  do  you  think  of  all  this  talk?"  Lacey 
asked  me. 

"It's  interesting,"  I  said,  "but  it's  only  talk." 

"That's  just  it,"  he  replied.  "They're  always  at 
it.     They  go  on  as  if  novels  mattered." 

"What  does  matter?"  I  asked. 

"There  you  have  me,"  he  said,  "but  not  novels, 
anyway.  Paying  your  way  '.matters.  Not  letting 
people  down  matters.  Keeping  a  hold  on  yourself 
matters.  But  books,  bless  your  heart,  books  !  Books 
don't  help  you  to  real  life,  except  possibly  as  an 
anodyne  to  take  away  the  thoughts  from  facts  —  from 
Carey  Street  and  things  like  that." 

"Quite  right,"  said  Dabney,  who  had  joined  us; 
"and  I  would  like  to  make  every  public  man  publish 


1 64  LONDON  LAVENDER 

his  truthful  list  of  the  things  that  matter.  H.  G. 
Wells,  who  one  feels  would  seek  the  truth  even  in  the 
cannon's  mouth,  once  wrote  a  book  called  First  and 
Last  Things,  a  kind  of  spiritual  stock-taking.  That 
was  some  time  ago,  and  his  mind  is  so  sensitive  to 
progress  and  so  receptive  of  ideas,  drawing  them 
from  the  air  as  Franklin's  key  drew  electricity  from 
the  thunder-cloud,  that  he  may  by  now  have  changed 
his  opinions  in  many  ways.  None  the  less  it  was  his 
creed  at  the  time,  expressed  with  all  his  mastery  of 
unambiguous  prose  and  his  desire  not  to  be  mis- 
understood. It  was  his  catalogue  of  the  things  that 
mattered.  I  remember  thinking  as  I  read  it  what 
an  interesting  and  valuable  thing  it  would  be  if  some 
such  confession  —  some  such  diploma  thesis  of  un- 
burdenment  —  was  demanded  of  every  statesman  and 
author.  Such  an  exaction  would,  at  any  rate,  help 
to  stem  the  Scotch  competition  in  public  life." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

IN  WHICH  WE  WATCH  AN  IMPULSIVE  GOOD 
SAMARITAN'S  DEEDS  AND  HEAR  HIS  SELF- 
REPROACHES 

LACEY  and  I  walked  back  together,  •  and  in 
Kingsway  we  were  overtaken  by  Spanton,  who 
had  been  to  a  debate  at  Essex  Hall.  I  observed  at 
once  that  he  and  Lacey  were  antipathetic.  It  was 
quite  natural,  for  both  are  vigorous  in  their  beliefs  or 
impulses,  and  they  look  at  life  from  totally  different 
points  of  view.  Lacey  is  a  sentimentalist  with  roots 
in  the  past ;  Spanton  is  a  scientific  state-builder  with 
his  eyes  on  the  future.  Lacey  is  disillusioned  and 
tired,  content  to  get  through  each  day  as  well  as  he 
can,  expecting  little.  Spanton  is  confident  and 
resolute. 

On  our  way  through  Russell  Square  we  passed  a 
girl  leaning  against  the  railing  of  a  house,  crying. 
She  was  dressed  in  tawdry  finery  and  her  left  hand 
was  bound  in  a  handkerchief.  Lacey  was  at  her  side 
in  a  moment. 

"What's  it  all  about?"  he  asked,  in  his  hearty, 
kind  voice. 

Amid  her  sobs  she  told  the  story.     She  had  had  a 

165 


1 66  LONDON  LAVENDER 

quarrel  with  her  man ;  he  had  struck  her ;  the  table 
fell  with  the  things  on  it  and  she  fell  too,  on  a  broken 
glass.     He  had  turned  her  out. 

Lacey  examined  her  hand,  which  was  badly  cut 
and  still  bleeding. 

"We  must  get  this  bound  up,"  he  said,  and  we 
found  a  cab  and  drove  to  a  chemist's  in  New  Oxford 
Street  which  is  open  all  night,  as,  of  course,  Lacey 
knew. 

"And  what  is  the  next  thing?"  he  said.  "Where 
do  you  live?" 

"I  couldn't  go  back  there,"  the  girl  said,  clinging 
to  him. 

She  was  a  fine  girl,  rather  on  the  coarse  side, 
with  a  dull  red  complexion,  thick  lips,  and  blunt 
nose;  but  her  large,  ^dark-brown  eyes  were  really 
splendid. 

Lacey  comforted  her  and  reassured  her,  stroking 
her  other  hand. 

Spanton  said  nothing. 

There  had  been  quarrels  before,  she  explained, 
and  the  man's  brutality  had  been  increasing.  This 
was  the  last.     Nothing  would  get  her  there  again. 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  Lacey,  "we  must  find  you 
a  bedroom,  and  to-morrow  I  will  see  what  I  can  do. 
It  is  too  late  now  to  talk." 

He  thought  a  while  and  then  told  the  cabman  to 
drive  to  a  street  off  the  Hampstead  Road. 

"When  I  was  in  business,"  he  said,  "I  had  an  old 
carpenter  named  Dimmage.     I  dare  say  he's  got  a 


LONDON  LAVENDER  167 

room  empty;  we  shall  just  catch  him  coming  home 
after  the  'Time,  gentlemen,  please.'" 

Lacey  was  right.  Mr.  Dimmage  had  just  returned 
and  was  locking  up.  His  delight  —  rendered  a  shade 
more  exuberant  by  his  evening's  libations  —  at  recog- 
nizing his  old  employer  was  a  joy  to  watch. 

The  story  was  soon  told,  and  Mrs.  Dimmage, 
extricated  from  bed,  appeared,  dishevelled  and 
testy,  at  the  head  of  the  narrow  stairs.  She  de- 
scended for  the  purpose  of  scrutinizing  the  girl 
a  little  more  closely  under  the  candle-light,  and 
then  retreated  again. 

"We've  no  room  here,"  she  said. 

(It  is  an  open  question  whether  women  are  not 
au  fond  women's  worst  enemy.) 

"But  what  about  that  truckle-bed  where  Jim  used  to 
be  ?  "  said  the  tactless  but  hero-worshipping  Dimmage. 

"There's  no  room  in  this  house  for  stray  women 
at  this  time  of  night,"  said  Mrs.  Dimmage. 

Mr.  Dimmage  looked  at  us  blankly. 

"But,  I  say,"  he  said,  "it's  a  favour  Mr.  Lacey's 
asking.  You  wouldn't  deny  Mr.  Lacey  anything? 
After  all  he's  done  for  us,  too  ; "  and  he  went  upstairs 
and  engaged  in  whispered  conversation. 

"You  are  good  to  me,"  said  the  girl,  who  still 
clung  to  Lacey's  arm.  "You'll  come  round  in  the 
morning,  won't  you?  You're  one  of  those  that  do 
keep  their  promises,  aren't  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  worse  luck,"  said  Lacey.  "But  you've  not 
got  your  room  yet." 


1 68  LONDON  LAVENDER 

"  Oh  yes,  I  have,"  she  said.     "  She's  getting  it  ready 


now." 


The  girl  was  right.  Mrs.  Dimmage  was  conquered, 
as  Mr.  Dimmage  informed  us  with  many  winks  and 
grimaces. 

"She's  a  good  old  soul,"  he  said  confidentially, 
"but  damned  partickler.     But  it'll  be  all  right  now." 

And  so  we  left,  Mr.  Lacey  promising  to  be  there 
at  half-past  nine. 

"I  call  that  a  triumph  for  alcohol,"  he  said,  as  we 
walked  on.  "If  Dimmage  had  been  a  teetotaller 
we  should  never  have  got  in.  He  would  have  been 
asleep,  for  one  thing,  and  for  another  he  would  have 
had  no  courage  to  stand  up  to  his  wife.  Alcohol 
is  always  called  the  friend  of  vice,  but  I  have  often 
found  it  the  friend  of  virtue  too." 

All  this  while  Spanton  had  been  looking  grimly 
on ;  and  when  we  came  away  he  at  last  spoke. 

"It's  a  waste  of  time  and  energy,  Mr.  Lacey.  All 
that  you've  done  is  to  keep  us  out  of  our  beds  and 
reduce  our  store  of  vitality.  There's  no  sense  in 
helping  a  woman  like  that.  She's  no  good  to  Society. 
She's  a  parasite.  If  you  had  an  impulse  to  do 
something  for  her  the  best  thing  would  have  been 
to  give  her  a  shilling  and  leave  her." 

"Oh,  rubbish,"  said  Lacey.  "We  must  do  as 
we're  made.  I  couldn't  leave  a  poor  creature  like 
that.     Common  humanity  wouldn't  let  me." 

"That's  because  you  don't  reason,"  said  Spanton. 
"If  you  had  thought  for  a  moment  instead  of  being 


LONDON  LAVENDER  169 

so  impulsive  you  would  have  realized  that  you  were 
doing  no  good  —  in  fact,  only  being  self-indulgent. 
We  have  no  right  to  go  about  the  world  squandering 
our  emotions  on  worthless  strangers.  We  ought  to 
control  and  direct  them,  to  help  those  that  are 
worth  helping." 

"That's  a  counsel  of  perfection,"  said  Lacey.  "I 
am  not  perfect.  I  am  just  an  ordinary  person  with 
a  heart  not  made  of  logic  or  stone.  If  I  see  anyone 
in  a  hole  I  like  to  try  and  get  them  out.  That's  not 
self-indulgence,  is  it?" 

"Almost  always,"  said  Spanton. 

"Well,  it's  Christianity,"  said  Lacey,  "and  that's 
good  enough  for  me." 

:'Yes,  but  Christianity  won't  work,"  said  Spanton. 
"It's  never  worked  yet.  Look  at  our  army.  Look 
at  our  navy.  Look  at  our  archbishops'  salaries.  Is 
there  any  connection  between  them  and  Galilee?" 

"Rubbish,"  said  Lacey.  "Why,  of  course,  Chris- 
tianity works.  It  makes  our  conduct.  And  if  you 
don't  stop  this  vile  talk  I'll  punch  your  head;"  and 
so  saying  he  stood  still  and  began  to  take  off  his 
coat. 

"All  right,"  said  Spanton,  "I'll  stop.  But  just 
see  how  true  it  was,  what  I  said  about  Christianity 
not  working.  You've  already  forgotten  the  instruction 
about  the  other  cheek." 

A  most  irritating  young  man. 

But  Lacey  was  quick  enough  for  him.  "Of  course 
I  shouldn't  do  anything  so  abject  as  that,"  he  said. 


170 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


"My  Christ  is  he  who  scourged  the  money  changers 
out  of  the  Temple.     Come  on!" 

"That  girl's  an  awful  nuisance,"  said  Lacey  to  me 
a  day  or  so  after.  "She's  fallen  in  love  with  me. 
I  was  afraid  she  would.  It's  my  destiny  to  attract 
the  wrong  women.  She's  just  a  poor  dumb  animal 
full  of  gratitude,  and  I  haven't  a  notion  what  to  do 
about  her.  Your  cold-blooded  young  Socialist  is 
right:  one  should  repress  one's  humanitarian  im- 
pulses." 

I  asked  him  what  he  should  do. 

"I'm  wondering,"  he  said.  "She  wants  to  be  my 
servant  and  work  herself  to  death  for  me.  I  can 
see  the  twins'  faces  when  they  find  her  cleaning  up 
my  room  !  There's  only  one  phrase  with  the  twins 
for  that  kind  of  girl  — 'brazen  hussy.'  What  the 
good  women  will  never  understand  about  these  others 
is  that  even  in  brazen  hussying  there  are  off  moments 
when  ordinary  life  has  to  be  lived.  Fortunately  she 
doesn't  know  my  address  and  old  Dimmage  won't 
tell  her.  I  shall  send  her  five  pounds  and  say  I 
have  to  go  abroad  for  three  months,  and  so  wash 
my  hands  of  her." 

I  strongly  advised  him  to  do  this  and  offered  to 
contribute  to  the  sum.     But  he  wouldn't  have  it. 

"No,"  he  said,  "this  is  my  show.  I  let  myself  in 
for  it,  and  I  must  get  out  of  it.  Poor  girl,  I'm  so 
sorry  for  her.  Such  a  nice  thing  too ;  but  hopeless, 
of  course.  When  they've  once  tasted  freedom  they 
won't  go  back.     How  can  they?    What  has  service 


LONDON  LAVENDER  171 

to  offer?  Do  you  remember  how  in  one  of  Byron's 
letters  he  bursts  out  in  disgust,  'Nothing  but  virtue 
pays  in  this  damned  world.'  He  was  right.  Nearly 
everyone  is  experimenting  with  vice,  yet  nothing  but 
virtue  really  pays.  The  difference  between  virtue 
and  the  other  thing  may  be  as  slight  as  tissue  paper, 
but  there  it  is,  and  all  our  social  system  is  based  on 
virtue.  Such  a  nice  girl  too.  She  ought  to  marry  a 
policeman  and  beget  life-guardsmen. 

"There's  a  poem  in  that  Chinese  book  you  lent 
me,"  Lacey  continued,  "which  I  have  learnt  by  heart 
and  am  trying  to  obey.  It  teaches  one  not  to  meddle. 
This  wretched  girl  who  is  on  my  mind  all  comes  of 
meddling,  just  as  Spanton  said.  The  poem  —  it's 
hundreds  of  years  old  —  runs  like  this  —  it  is  quite 
short  —  only  four  lines: 

I  wander  north,  I  wander  south,  I  rest  me  where  I  please  .  .  . 
See  how  the  river-banks  are  nipped  beneath  the  autumn  breeze  ! 
Yet  what  care  I  if  autumn's  blasts  the  river-banks  lay  bare  ? 
The  loss  of  hue  to  river-banks  is  the  river-banks'  affair. 

That's  the  way  to  live.  Go  your  own  way  and  don't 
care  a  hang  for  anyone.     I  wish  I  could  do  it ! 

"That  poem's  given  me  an  idea  too.  To  make  a 
little  collection  of  poems  all  of  which  are  four  lines 
long  and  no  more.  You'd  get  some  fine  things  and 
it  wouldn't  tire  anyone.  Some  day,  when  I've  more 
time,  I  shall  do  this." 

But,  of  course,  he  won't. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

IN  WHICH  THE  WYNNES  AND  OURSELVES  MAKE 
A  JOURNEY  TO  ITALY  AND  FIND  THE  MID- 
DLE AGES 

SINCE  the  events  described  in  the  last  chapter 
I  have  been  a  traveller.  I  forget  if  I  have  men- 
tioned that  Naomi  has  a  brother  Frank,  a  journalist, 
with  a  pretty  wife  and  three  children.  We  do  not 
see  very  much  of  them,  as  they  live  out  of  London, 
but  these  children  having  been  ordered  the  best  kind 
of  sea  bathing,  and  Mr.  Wynne  —  Frank,  and  Naomi's 
father  —  having  generously  put  his  hand  deep  into  his 
pocket,  and  Naomi  having  talked  me  round,  we  all 
went  to  Rimini  to  bathe;  because  good  authorities 
said  that  Rimini  bathing  was  of  the  superlative  best. 

When  I  had  at  last  consented  I  began  (as  often 
happens)  to  be  enthusiastic.  I  used  to  go  about 
London  saying  "Rimini,  Rimini,"  just  for  the  sheer 
joy  of  the  syllables.  For  I  can  think  of  no  other 
three,  in  that  Italian  language  of  beautiful  syllables, 
that  contain  the  suggestion  of  so  much  that  is  splendid 
and  old  and  romantic.  I  pictured  it  on  the  grand 
scale,  a  little  as  though  Hugo  had  sketched  it,  noble 
but  decayed.  I  saw  a  crumbling  fortress,  an  empty 
palace,  vast,  sun-baked  streets,  a  cool,  twilit  cathedral, 

172 


LONDON  LAVENDER  173 

and  dark  doorways  and  passages  in  which  the  clash 
of  steel  was  still  almost  audible.  That  is  how  I 
began;  but  gradually,  as  I  met  travellers  and  con- 
versed with  them,  these  poetical  anticipations  lost 
their  fine  bloom. 

Said  one:  "It's  the  very  dickens  of  a  place  for 
mosquitoes." 

Said  his  son,  a  healthy  schoolboy,  who  was  present : 
"I  believe  it's  near  San  Marino.  If  I  give  you  a 
couple  of  bob  will  you  buy  me  some  stamps  ?  "  (What 
a  lot  the  young  know  !) 

"If  you  are  going  to  Rimini,"  said  Dabney,  "you 
must  get  Symonds  and  read  up  the  Malatesta  lot. 
They're  awfully  interesting.  But  perhaps  you're 
going  to  write  about  them." 

"No,"  I  said,  "I  think  not.  I'm  going  to  Rimini 
solely  for  bathing  and  mosquito  bites." 

A  Scotch  physician  gave  me  advice  of  a  different 
and  totally  unexpected  variety.  "Don't  forget  the 
Rimini  beer,"  he  said.     "It's  the  best  I  ever  tasted." 

Rimini  beer  !  Shade  of  Dante  !  But  the  doctor 
was  right.  The  Rimini  beer  is  wonderful,  especially 
with  the  Rimini  sun  to  create  a  thirst  for  it.  Apollo 
and  the  brewer  (who  has,  I  regret  to  say,  a  German 
name)  working  in  partnership  can  always  lead  to 
admirable  results,  but  never  more  admirable  than  at 
Rimini. 

One  lady  alone  played  the  game.  She  threw  up 
her  hands  in  an  ecstasy.  "Rimini!"  she  crooned. 
"How  delightful !    Paolo  and  Francesca." 


174 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


But  the  prettiest  thing  was  said  in  a  letter  from 
a  literary  friend.  "Lucky  you  !"  he  wrote,  "and  if 
you  stay  till  October  you  will  see  the  swallows  and 
get  some  English  news,  for  they  always  rest  at  Rimini 
on  the  way  south." 

Our  party  was  enormous  and  a  tremendous  re- 
sponsibility for  me,  who  foolishly  undertook  to  pilot 
it;  for,  in  addition  to  ourselves,  who  knew  a  little 
French  and  Italian,  there  were  two  maids  who  knew 
none,  one  of  them  being  the  children's  nurse,  and 
the  other  Mrs.  Wynne's  new  maid,  who  was  advertised 
for  as  not  objecting  to  going  abroad,  and  replied  that 
she  was  "fond  of  travail." 

I  pass  over  the  horrors  of  the  journey.  No  one 
who  vividly  remembered  his  railway  experiences 
would  ever  go  to  Italy  again ;  but  Providence  has  a 
kindly  way  of  blurring  them  or  relegating  them  to  a 
distant  background  behind  Italian  joys.  One  quaint 
experience  the  last  stage  offered.  In  the  confusion 
of  Bologna's  crowded  platforms,  and  the  absence  of 
any  official  who  knew  anything,  and  the  lateness  of 
our  train,  and  the  changing  into  the  next,  which  was, 
like  all  Italian  trains,  packed  with  passengers  before 
we  could  reach  it,  there  had  been  no  opportunity 
that  I  considered  safe  to  buy  any  refreshments. 
As,  therefore,  the  appalling  journey  lengthened  out 
between  Bologna  and  Rimini,  where  the  line  hits  the 
Adriatic  coast  and  thereafter  clings  to  it  for  many 
miles,  we  were  all  conscious  of  the  pangs  of  hunger. 

In  despair  I  explored  the  train  for  food,  hoping 


LONDON  LAVENDER  175 

against  hope,  and  came  upon  a  peasant  in  a  corner 
with  a  basket  at  his  feet  from  which  oozed  a  thick 
fluid.  That  it  would  prove  to  be  inedible  I  was 
confident ;  but  none  the  less  I  asked  him  what  it  was, 
'  and  behold,  when  he  opened  the  mouth  of  the  basket 
it  was  eggs.  To  his  immense  astonishment  I  led 
him  to  the  compartment  which  we  had  at  last  ob- 
tained, and,  to  his  greater  surprise,  he  watched  us 
each  consume  one  or  more  of  his  eggs  broken  into 
the  cup  of  a  pocket  flask.  Even  Naomi,  whose 
horror  of  a  raw  egg  amounts  in  England  to  a  mania, 
took  one ;  even  the  children  took  one,  with  a  rever- 
ence and  distortion  proper  only  to  medicine. 

The  strange  part  of  the  story,  which  otherwise 
lacks  all  the  elements  of  excitement,  is,  that  when  I 
offered  the  man  some  money  he  refused  it.  It  had 
given  him  pleasure  to  be  of  use  to  us,  he  said.  He 
would  on  no  account  accept  any  payment.  Noble 
egg-merchant  of  Rimini,  may  you  have  many  children, 
and  may  they  have  many  children,  and  so  come  to 
repopulate  and  regenerate  Italy  !  But,  he  said,  if  we 
really  wished  to  make  some  return,  he  would  greatly 
esteem  a  taste  of  the  liquor  which  the  flask  contained 
and  which  some  of  us  had  poured  into  the  broken 
eggs.  I  therefore  handed  him  a  cup  of  the  national 
beverage  of  Caledonia,  which  he  took  at  a  gulp,  and 
the  last  we  saw  of  our  good  Samaritan  was  his 
honest,  sunburned  face  in  spasms  of  astonishment  at 
its  strength,  and  the  last  we  heard  of  him  was  his 
strangling  gasps  as  he  fought  with  the  unaccustomed 


176  LONDON  LAVENDER 

draught.  I  looked  for  him  after  in  Rimini  but  never 
saw  him  more. 

And  so,  after  many  many  hours  in  grubby  carriages, 
we  reached  Rimini  late  at  night,  which  is  the  right 
thing  to  do,  and  in  that  dazed  state  that  follows 
sudden  entry  in  the  dark  into  a  strange  town,  after  a 
fatiguing  and  noisy  train,  we  were  driven  through 
narrow  streets  to  the  hotel:  having  chosen,  for  fun, 
the  ancient  posting-house  of  the  centre  rather  than 
the  new  and  splendid  hostel  of  the  plage.  In  spite  of 
certain  disabilities  I  think  we  were  wise,  for  it  made 
just  the  difference  between  being  in  Rimini  and  being 
anywhere  —  Ostend,  say,  or  Dieppe  —  for  all  plage 
hotels  are  the  same  and  all  ancient  posting-houses 
have  their  own  character. 

The  Golden  Eagle  and  Three  Kings  was  our 
magnificent  sign  and  we  completely  captured  it. 
We  had  vast  rooms  in  which  gilt  beds  with 
canopies  over  them  (like  royal  couches  in  a  fairy  tale) 
occurred  as  incidents,  isolated  as  palm  trees  in  the 
desert;  while  the  gaily-painted  ceilings  were  high 
above  as  the  vault  of  heaven.  Such  a  thing  as  a 
small  room  was  unknown.  The  hostess  was  shrewd 
and  masterful,  with  all  the  machinery  of  geniality. 
The  host  was  not  only  landlord  but  housemaid,  parlour- 
maid, cellar-man,  and  everything  else.  Heavy,  pallid, 
puffy,  and  unbuttoned,  with  a  kind  face  and  a  heavy 
moustache,  he  was  to  be  met  with  on  the  stairs  at  all 
hours,  carrying  either  a  broom  or  a  pail  or  both. 
We   called   him    (Heaven   forgive   us !)    the    Golden 


LONDON  LAVENDER  177 

Eagle ;  but  his  consort  was  liker  that  commanding 
and  predatory  fowl.  In  addition  there  was  an  odd 
man  or  two  in  an  apron,  also  busy  with  brooms  and 
pails,  and  also  the  natural  objective  of  the  eagless's 
criticism ;  a  head  waiter  (from  Florence,  for  the 
season) ;  a  piccolo,  who  smiled  ever  and  longed  to  be 
up  to  mischief  but  dared  not ;  a  kitchen  staff ;  and 
two  or  three  prim  and  superior  daughters,  or  eaglets, 
glimpses  of  whom  were  occasionally  to  be  caught  in 
the  hotel,  avoiding  their  father,  and  whom,  with  their 
efficient  mother,  all  in  black,  we  met  more  than  once 
returning  from  Mass.  Such  was  the  personnel  of  the 
Golden  Eagle  and  Three  Kings. 

But  at  lunch  and  dinner  sparkling  young  com- 
mercial travellers  appeared  from  obscure  regions  of 
the  building  inaccessible  to  us,  where  no  doubt  the 
rooms  approximated  to  the  English  size,  and  these 
would  surround  a  long  table  and  eat  and  drink  and 
incessantly  talk ;  but  always  first  executing  some 
courteous  preliminaries  from  which  emerged  the 
senior,  to  take  the  head  of  the  table. 

Rimini  has  but  this  one  hotel  of  any  class  at  all, 
and  one  cafe,  and  this  cafe,  I  observed,  has  but  one 
habitue  who  wears  evening  dress ;  but  he  is  so  proud 
of  it  that  his  unceasing  promenade  before  the  little 
tables  outside  conveys  the  illusion  of  a  Smart  Set. 

The  city,  I  may  say  at  once,  is  not  the  city  of  my 
dreams.  I  do  not  say  it  is  disappointingly  not  so,  for 
everything  about  it  is  so  foreign  and  so  interesting  and 
(with  the  exception  of  the  plage,  the  railway,  and  the 


178  LONDON  LAVENDER 

trams)  so  mediaeval  —  such  a  feat  of  survival  —  that  it 
is  satisfying  even  to  one  who  had  expected  too  much. 
The  town  itself  is  small  and  half  derelict,  and  a  long 
way  (in  hot  weather)  from  the  sea.  On  the  shore, 
for  a  mile  and  more,  is  a  new  settlement  of  villas  and 
bathing-boxes,  a  casino  and  the  great  white  a  la 
mode  hotel.  This  mile,  inhabited  wholly  by  strangers, 
comes  to  life  in  June  and  dies  again  in  September,  and 
has  no  dealings  with  the  old  town  and  the  Golden 
Eagle  and  Three  Kings  whatever.  Nor  has  the  old 
town  any  dealings  with  the  shore,  for  no  one  living 
at  Rimini  ever  bathes.  The  only  way  in  which  old 
Rimini  recognizes  the  sea  is  to  circulate  round  the 
bandstand  on  Sundays  and  musical  nights,  otherwise 
it  prefers  to  crumble  in  the  sun,  and  recks  nothing  of 
salt  water. 

Rimini's  streets  are  narrow  and  paved  with  stones 
chosen  carefully  for  their  unsuitability  for  such  a 
purpose.  Its  houses  are  high  and  squalid,  but  most 
charmingly  sheltered  with  green.  Its  palaces  are 
now  rookeries.  The  main  street  is  entered  from  the 
plain  through  a  massive  gateway  —  the  Porta  Romana 
—  and  passing  through  the  town  widens  first  into  an 
arcaded  oval,  with  a  monument  in  it  celebrating 
Caesar's  crossing  of  the  neighbouring  Rubicon  in  49 
B.C.,  then  narrows  again;  then  becomes  the  side  of 
the  principal  square,  the  Piazza  Cavour,  where  the 
theatre,  the  post  office,  the  Municipio,  the  cafe,  and 
the  one  suit  of  evening  clothes  are ;  then  narrows 
again  to  pass  the  Golden  Eagle  and   Three   Kings; 


LONDON  LAVENDER  179 

and  after  a  further  narrow  period  leaves  the  town 
by  way  of  a  stone  bridge  with  five  arches  over  the 
Marecchia,  which  was  begun  before  Christ  by  Augus- 
tus and  finished  by  Tiberius  in  a.d.  20 ;  and  so  once 
more  we  enter  the  plain  again.  There  are  a  few 
by-streets  and  the  castle  of  the  Malatestas  and  an 
amphitheatre,  within  the  walls  ;  and  that  is  all.  And 
everything  has  the  disintegrating  baked  appearance 
of  a  city  with  a  past. 

The  famous  cathedral  has  a  facade  as  unfinished 
and  untidy  as  a  peacock  from  behind,  and  it  is  usually 
deserted ;  but  it  is  Rimini's  best,  still.  Interesting  to 
loiter  here  and  ruminate  upon  its  makers:  chief  of 
them  the  black  Sigismondo  Pandolfo  Malatesta,  who 
built  it,  not  only  as  a  service  for  a  God  whom  he  too 
often  forgot,  but  as  a  fitting  resting-place  when  that 
orgy,  his  life,  was  over.  His  story  is  a  dark  one. 
He  was  born  in  141 7  and  died  in  1468.  His  im- 
perious hawk-shaped  head  tells  us  that  he  could 
brook  no  opposition,  and  throughout  his  tempestuous 
career  he  did  everything  he  wished,  as  Italian  tyrants 
of  the  Middle  Ages  were  peculiarly  able  to.  Three 
wives  at  least  he  espoused  and  then  murdered,  but  at 
last  fell  completely  under  the  charm  of  the  fair  and 
gifted  Isotta  degli  Atti,  who  had  enough  influence 
with  him  to  force  him  to  marry  her  and  enough  good 
fortune  to  survive  him. 

Sigismondo  as  a  bold  bad  man  has  almost  no 
superior  in  the  annals  of  wilfulness  and  turpitude, 
but  alongside   his   abnormal   cruelties   and   excesses 


i8o  LONDON  LAVENDER 

was  a  devotion  to  art  and  philosophy  which  not  only 
led  him  to  invite  Alberti  here  to  design,  and  the 
sweet  and  simple  Piero  della  Francesca  to  paint,  and 
certain  of  the  best  sculptors  to  carve,  his  cathedral  — 
but  he  entertained  scholars  and  poets  continually  in 
his  city  of  lawless  passions,  and  himself  brought 
hither  from  Greece  the  bones  of  the  famous  Neo- 
Platonist,  Gemisthos  Plethon,  the  father  of  the  New 
Learning,  and  reinterred  them  in  state  in  this 
Christian  fane.  Strange  lurid  times  and  strange 
anomalies  in  them  ! 

Sigismondo's  tomb,  with  the  elephant  pertaining 
to  his  crest,  and  Isotto's  tomb  near  it  (with  Isotto 
herself  as  an  angel  on  the  altar)  were  both  constructed 
in  their  lifetime  and  must  have  been  visited  continu- 
ally by  their  intended  occupants  to  see  what  progress 
was  being  made.  His  own  tomb  bears  a  cynical 
couplet  which,  with  his  descriptive  name,  sufficiently 
describes  the  man  for  posterity. 

As  for  the  most  famous  figures  in  Rimini,  those 
two  fated  lovers  of  whom  Dante  first  sang —  Paolo 
and  Francesca  —  one  hears  nothing  of  them  in  the 
city  to-day,  and  sees  only  picture  post-cards  represent- 
ing a  modern  meretricious  painting  of  the  hapless 
pair.  It  was  an  ancestor  of  Sigismondo  (he  himself 
left  no  lawful  descendants),  Giovanni  the  Lame,  who 
was  the  husband  of  Francesca.  And  Francesca  loved 
too  well  her  husband's  brother  Paolo  the  beautiful, 
and  Giovanni  had  both  of  them  put  to  death  in  1288, 
when  Dante  was  a  young  man  of  twenty- three. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  181 

But  the  sweetest  and  rarest  life  to  think  upon  in 
this  forsaken  temple  is  that  of  its  architect  —  Leon 
Battista  Alberti,  the  first  Admirable  Crichton  of  a 
period  when  Crichtons  were  almost  the  rule.  Of 
noble  birth,  Alberti  developed  his  many-sided  genius 
very  early.  He  controlled  the  wildest  horses  almost 
by  a  word;  he  could  jump  his  own  height  without 
a  run;  he  could  throw  a  coin  accurately  over  the 
tallest  building ;  none  could  beat  him  at  wrestling  or 
archery;  he  painted,  modelled,  and  was  a  superb 
musician.  To  his  skill  and  taste  as  an  architect  this 
cathedral  testifies,  as  do  the  facade  of  S.  Maria 
Novella  at  Florence  and  the  old  Ruccellai  palace 
there.  He  dived  deeply  into  physical  science,  read 
everything  that  was  readable  in  those  early  days 
before  printing,  was  among  the  keenest  of  the  Neo- 
Platonists,  and,  like  Leonardo  after  him,  a  mountaineer- 
He  worshipped  beautiful  things,  jewels,  flowers,  land- 
scapes, and  was  peculiarly  delighted  by  the  spectacle 
of  healthy  and  handsome  old  men.  When  one  of 
his  dogs  died  he  wrote  a  funeral  oration  for  it. 
Among  his  literary  works  were  a  treatise  on  the 
family,  essays  on  art  and  science,  and  an  auto- 
biography. Like  Michael  Angelo  and  Leonardo,  his 
greatest  successors,  he  never  married,  and  his  wealth 
was  always  at  the  disposal  of  his  friends.  Such  was 
Leon  Battista  Alberti,  the  builder  of  this  cathedral, 
who  was  dead  nine  years  before  our  Edward  V  came 
to  the  throne. 

Neither  universal  genius  nor  tyrant  is  to  be  found 


1 82  LONDON  LAVENDER 

in  Rimini  to-day.  The  cathedral  is  forlorn  and 
deserted;  the  castle  of  the  Malatestas  is  a  prison; 
no  fierce  or  genial  despot  stirs  the  languid  populace 
to  activity.  They  loaf  about  in  deshabille,  gossip, 
sip  their  coffee,  read  the  papers,  and  care  for  nothing. 
Sun-beetles,  every  one  of  them;  that  is,  in  summer. 
I  cannot  conceive  of  Rimini  in  winter  at  all. 

But  the  girls  of  Rimini.  Ah  !  Olive  coloured,  with 
regular  features  a  little  rounded,  tall,  straight,  with 
level  eyes  that  never  wander,  they  are  the  most 
beautiful  things  there.  They  walk  proudly  in  couples, 
talking,  laughing;  they  are  never  seen  with  men. 
They  come  along  so  statelily  and  easily,  like  sailing 
ships.  At  other  times  they  look  out  of  the  windows, 
but  still  never  at  men.  Where  else  are  beautiful 
women  so  disdainful  ? 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

IN  WHICH  WE  LUXURIATE  IN   A    TIDELESS    SEA 
AND  WITNESS  A  BLOODLESS  BATTLE 

LET  me  say  at  once  that  not  only  is  the  Rimini 
bathing  the  best  in  the  world,  so  far  as  I  know, 
but  the  sands  are  the  best  too ;  and  the  fishing-boats 
that  flit  in  and  out  of  the  little  harbour  have  the 
best  burnt-umber  sails. 

The  English  are  learning  to  enjoy  plage  life,  but 
they  are  not  naturally  ready  for  its  beguilements  as 
the  French  and  Italians  are ;  while  the  Germans, 
after  their  wont,  overdo  it,  with  a  coarse  self-con- 
sciousness and  their  always  visible  intention  of  ex- 
tracting the  last  drop  of  material  bliss.  The  Italians 
are  children  in  the  water  and  on  the  sands :  the  dark, 
hairy  men,  the  placid,  olive-hued  women  with  sub- 
terranean fires.  At  Rimini,  where  it  is  really  hot, 
one  lives  all  day  in  bathing  clothes,  alternately  in  the 
water  and  out;  but  from  twelve  to  one  everyone  is 
eating,  and  from  one  to  three  everyone  is  asleep  — 
except  the  indefatigable  children.  In  those  hours 
the  sands  under  the  tent  awnings  present  the  appear- 
ance  of   a   battle-field,   strewn   with    the   prismatic 

183 


1 84  LONDON  LAVENDER 

dead.  This  to  the  human  eye ;  to  the  eye  of  a  sand 
insect  the  scene  must  be  more  like  the  South  Downs 
to  a  Wealden  labourer,  such  are  the  undulating 
contours  of  the  full-length  Italian  parents  who 
repose  in  profusion  and  negligence  on  every  hand. 

These  parents  were  more  entertaining  to  me  than 
any  of  the  younger  bathers :  they  were  so  patiently 
happy ;  so  sensibly  careless  of  their  habiliments ;  so 
wisely  unmindful  of  their  bulk;  such  creatures  of 
comfort.  Their  pretty  daughters  and  slender  sons 
had  their  vanities ;   the  parents  were  without  any. 

I  had  often  wondered  when  abroad  what  kind  of 
impression  one  makes.  All  these  swarthy  Italian 
men,  for  example,  looked  like  tenors :  but  what  type 
did  I,  for  instance,  suggest  to  the  Italian  eye,  if  any  ? 
There  are  many  more  casts  of  face  in  England  than 
in  Italy,  and  several  more  than  in  France ;  and  now 
that  whiskers  have  gone  out  and  clean  shaving  is  the 
fashion  it  must  puzzle  the  continental  caricaturist  to 
fix  the  English  type.  But  of  one  thing  I  feel  certain, 
that  our  little  party  broke  no  hearts.  No  dark 
Italian  eyes  looked  yearningly  our  way :  the  Carusi 
will  always  win  there. 

Few  of  the  Italians,  young  or  old,  thought  of 
swimming.  Their  pleasure  was  to  stand  about  or 
make  lazy  voyages  on  the  double-canoe  rafts,  mean- 
while carrying  on  conversations  with  their  tent  at 
terrific  range.  Only  the  English  or  an  eccentric 
native  thought  of  swimming,  and  the  English,  so  far 
as  I  know,  were  confined  to  our  own  party. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  185 

I  say  we  were  the  only  English ;  but  is  that  quite 
just  ?  For  on  the  first  morning,  while  I  was  arrang- 
ing with  the  bathing  master  in  his  little  guichet  for 
our  tickets  and  so  forth,  he  sent  for  one  of  the  bath- 
ing men  to  be  our  particular  attendant,  on  the 
grounds  that  he  was  English,  or,  at  any  rate,  knew 
English.  "The  Englishman,"  therefore,  he  became 
in  our  minds ;  but  what  English  !  He  had  one  word 
—  "awry"  —  which  meant  the  very  opposite,  "All 
right,"  and  this  he  used  continually.  He  could  also 
say  "ole  man."  No  more.  The  secret  of  his  reputa- 
tion as  a  linguist  was  a  sojourn  he  had  made  in  San 
Francisco ;  but  it  is  extremely  easy,  I  take  it,  in  San 
Francisco,  to  consort  only  with  your  own  country- 
men, no  matter  what  race  is  yours,  and  therefore 
avoid  the  necessity  of  learning  any  new  tongue. 
The  Englishman,  however,  was  our  friend.  He  taught 
the  children  to  swim;  he  placed  his  double  canoe  at 
our  exclusive  disposal  at  a  heavy  cost ;  he  fixed  the 
awning  of  the  tent;  he  procured  additional  deck- 
chairs;    he  brought  bottles. 

And  once  he  fought  for  us.  During  his  momentary 
absence  one  morning  we  had  received  some  attention 
from  another  of  the  men,  and  the  Englishman  had 
heard  about  it.  Such  a  liberty  was,  of  course,  out- 
rageous and  must  be  punished ;  and  the  Englishman 
set  to  work  to  chastise  this  upstart  and  interloper. 
The  attendants  had  cubicles  at  the  head  of  the  little 
pier,  side  by  side,  and  the  Englishman  and  his  foe 
chose  this  site  for  their  battle,  for  all  the  world  to  see. 


1 86  LONDON  LAVENDER 

They  began  by  calling  each  other  names  at  a  distance 
of  a  yard;  then  they  closed  up  and  shouted  these 
and  other  names  into  each  other's  very  mouths. 
Then  they  took  to  fisticuffs.  Not,  however,  in  any 
vulgar  northern  way,  upon  each  other's  body,  but  on 
the  doors  and  walls  of  each  other's  cubicle.  They 
fought  like  this  for  ten  minutes,  beating  the  wood- 
work mercilessly,  every  blow  being  accompanied  by 
a  new  epithet,  which  it  is  fortunate  was  not  in  any 
language  that  we  understood;  and  then  they  dis- 
appeared within,  each  in  his  own  lair.  For  a  while 
there  was  silence,  to  the  intense  regret  of  the  plage, 
but  not  for  long ;  for  the  Englishman  would  think  of 
something  good  which  he  had  not  yet  called  the 
other,  and  would  come  out  and  call  it  him,  with  a 
knock-out  blow  on  the  panel ;  and  the  other  would 
remember  a  terrible  insult  which  had  been  hurled  at 
him  a  year  or  two  ago  and  which,  in  the  excitement 
of  the  past  few  minutes,  had  escaped  his  memory, 
and  he  would  fire  this  into  the  Englishman  with  an 
undercut  on  the  pitch  pine.  They  came  out  so 
rhythmically  that  one  could  almost  believe  they 
were  consulting  slang  dictionaries  in  the  mean- 
while ;  and  then  the  warfare  gradually  died  down,  as 
the  dictionaries  gave  out,  and  in  half  an  hour  they 
were  in  friendly  intercourse  again.  From  the  circum- 
stance that  the  other  man  ever  after  avoided  us,  we 
gathered  that  the  Englishman  had  won. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

IN  WHICH  AN  EXPERIMENT  IS  MADE  IN  QUICK- 
ENING THE  INTELLIGENCE  OF  THE  YOUNG, 
WITH  DISTRESSING. RESULTS 

MRS.  FRANK,  I  have  not  perhaps  said,  is  one 
of  the  serious  mothers  who  wish  to  make 
her  children  clever  from  the  very  first,  and  she  has 
enlisted  my  services  in  the  campaign,  although  I 
am  not  clever  yet.  We  all  stay  on  the  sand  until 
four,  and  then  there  are  two  hours  for  the  twins  and 
their  small  sister  before  bedtime.  It  is  this  interlude 
which  Mrs.  Frank  has  entreated  me  to  spend  now 
and  then,  say  three  times  a  week,  in  instruction. 

"Be  original  with  them,"  she  says,  " there's  a  good 
Kent.     Make  them  think  and  see." 

" Heavens,  woman,"  I  reply,  "why  not  save  time 
by  telling  me  to  be  perfect?  What's  their  father 
about,  anyway?     Why  isn't  he  teaching  his  brood?" 

"Oh,  Frank's  too  lazy,"  says  his  wife.  "Besides, 
he  hasn't  any  patience.  He  hates  to  be  interrupted 
with  questions  —  not  a  little  because  he  can't  answer 
them." 

I  am  lazy  too,  and  am  equally  afraid  of  questions, 

but  it  has  long  been  understood  in  this  world  that  I 

187 


1 88  LONDON  LAVENDER 

cannot  say  no,  while  ever  since  I  took  charge  of  Mr. 
Bemerton's  shop  I  have  been  the  natural  prey  of  all 
mendicants.  Moreover,  Naomi  supporting  her  sister- 
in-law's  request,  I  had  to  say  yes  once  more. 

I  borrowed  my  plan  from  Spanton.  You  remember 
what  he  said  about  his  school  lectures  and  his  descrip- 
tion of  the  lives  of  the  labourers.  Well,  I  took  that 
as  a  basis,  and,  applying  the  idea  to  younger  minds, 
began  a  little  story  for  these  children  which  should 
have  the  effect  of  making  them  realize,  although  so 
young,  their  dependent  position  in  the  world,  and 
their  indebtedness  to  the  world  and  its  workers  not 
only  for  their  luxuries  but  their  necessities.  At  first  it 
would  be  merely  a  matter  of  curiosity  quickened  and 
satisfied,  but  later,  as  they  grew  older  and  went  to 
school,  it  might  make  them  the  more  ready  not  to 
harbour  insularity  and  arrogance. 

We  had  a  chapter  at  a  time.  My  story  began 
thus : 

What  the  World  does  for  Prue 

Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  little  girl  called  Prue. 
Or,  to  be  more  exact,  there  is  a  little  girl  named  Prue, 
for  she  is  living  in  London  at  this  minute  and  is  still 
only  ten  years  old.  Prue  has  no  brothers  and  sisters, 
but  I  don't  think  that  this  matters  very  much  to  her 
happiness,  for  she  has  many  friends,  not  only  of  her 
own  age  but  bigger  too,  quite  grown  up,  in  fact, 
and  also  a  very  busy  mind  which  leads  her  to  be 
interested  in  a  large  number  of  things  and  so  keeps 


LONDON  LAVENDER  189 

her  contented.  Her  father  goes  into  London  in  the 
morning  at  half-past  nine  by  the  Hammer-Smith  Tube 
from  Gloucester  Road,  and  he  comes  back  in  the 
afternoon  so  exactly  at  the  same  time  every  day  that 
Prue  can  be  sure  of  meeting  him  by  the  greengrocer's 
and  florist's  on  the  way,  where  he  buys  some  flowers 
for  Prue's  mother,  who  is  an  invalid.  On  Saturday, 
however,  he  does  not  go  to  his  business  at  all,  but  in 
the  morning  he  plays  at  golf  in  the  Old  Deer  Park  at 
Richmond  (close  to  Kew  Gardens),  and  in  the  after- 
noon he  takes  Prue  to  a  picture  gallery  or  a  concert. 
On  Sunday  afternoons  they  always  go  either  to  the 
South  Kensington  Museum,  which  they  are  getting 
to  know  by  heart,  from  Constable's  water-colours  of 
Brighton  to  Michael  Angelo's  "David,"  and  from  teak 
houses  at  Benares  to  lace  caps  for  babies  in  the  time 
of  Queen  Anne ;  or  to  the  British  Museum,  which 
they  know  also  equally  well,  from  the  Elgin 
Marbles  to  the  little  Tanagra  family  groups  in  terra- 
cotta, and  from  Egyptian  mummies  to  Staffordshire 
jugs  with  poetry  on  them.  You  have  no  idea 
how  interesting  a  museum  can  be  if  you  take  it 
easily  and  have  someone  to  describe  the  things 
to  you.  The  mistake  people  make  in  museums  is 
to  try  and  see  too  much,  as  if  they  were  going  to  die 
to-night. 

Prue  also  has  a  governess  named  Miss  Fry,  and  a 
considerable  library  of  her  own,  and  a  dachshund 
named  Herr  Bandy,  and  threepence  a  week  pocket 
money.     She  has  fair  hair  and  blue  eyes,  and  would 


i9o  LONDON  LAVENDER 

much  rather  be  laughing  than  not,  in  spite  of  her 
visits  to  museums.  And  that,  I  think,  is  enough 
introduction  to  Prue. 

The  purpose  of  this  story  is  to  give  you  the  same 
idea/-as  that  given  to  Prue  by  her  father,  of  the 
thanks  which  you  owe  to  the  world  at  large;  and 
when  I  say  you  I  mean  all  of  us,  but  particularly 
those  living  at  this  moment  in  England.  For  I  want 
you  to  think  of  Prue  as  a  little  girl  standing  on 
England  in  the  flat  map  of  the  world  which  we  call 
Mercator's  Projection,  to  whom  from  all  directions 
steamers  and  trains  are  hurrying.  Each  of  these 
steamers  and  trains  is  bringing  her  something  that  is 
necessary  for  everyday  life,  to  eat  or  to  wear  or  to 
use,  and  were  it  not  for  these  steamers  and  trains,  and 
the  sailors  and  engineers  on  them,  and  stevedores  who 
loaded  them  and  others  who  will  unload  them,  and  the 
workmen  who  made  or  dug  or  gathered  the  articles 
they  are  loaded  with,  that  little  girl  would  very 
likely  die  or,  at  any  rate,  be  no  better  than  a  savage. 
And  again  when  I  say  that  little  girl  I  mean  you  and 
me  and  all  of  us  prosperous,  protected,  English  people 
who  have  only  to  go  into  the  Stores  and  lay  down 
our  money  to  get  ail  we  want,  and,  for  the  most 
part,  never  think  of  the  way  in  which  men  have  been 
toiling  under  hot  suns  or  freezing  skies  or  in  stifling 
cities,  mostly  on  poor  wages,  to  provide  us  with  it. 
We  take  such  things  for  granted :  just  as  Prue  did 
until  her  eccentric  Uncle  Frank,  who  always  did  such 
odd  things,  came  back  from  India,  where  he  was  a 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


191 


judge,  for  a  holiday,  and  told  her  a  little  about  the 
origin  of  things,  as  I  am  going  to  tell  you. 

That  was  the  start,  and  it  was  very  successful, 
except  that  the  twins  both  wondered  why  I  had 
made  a  little  girl  the  heroine. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "it  is  because  girls  are  more 
interesting.  I  wrote  it  really  for  Jill,  only  she  is 
too  young  for  it  at  the  moment.  Little  boys  don't 
make  such  good  stories  as  little  girls." 

"Why?"  they  asked. 

"Ah,"  I  replied  (for  I  am  not  altogether  a  fool), 
'  you  must  ask  your  father.     He  knows  everything." 

Now  for  the  real  beginning,  the  first  chapter : 

It  was  a  bright  morning  in  April.  Prue  woke  up 
at  seven,  half  an  hour  before  she  need  get  up.  This 
is  a  very  pleasant  thing  to  do.  She  knew  it  was  seven 
because  she  looked  at  her  watch.  Her  watch  !  This 
is  rather  serious,  because  few  things  that  we  use  in 
daily  life  contain  the  results  of  more  labour  in  many 
countries  than  a  very  ordinary  watch,  and  if  I  tell  you 
all  about  that  now,  we  shall  not  get  back  to  Prue  for 
many  pages.  I  had  forgotten  that  Prue's  watch 
would  come  in  so  soon.  Let  us  then  postpone  the 
examination  of  her  watch  for  a  little,  because  I  want 
to  tell  you  how  she  began  to  think  of  this  dependence 
of  hers  (and  ours)  upon  the  rest  of  the  world.  She 
lay  there  in  her  little  bed  all  cosy  between  the  sheets 
and   blankets.      (Sheets   and   blankets,   did   I   say? 


192 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


This  story  is  not  only  never  going  to  end,  I  can  see, 
but  is  never  going  to  begin  either,  for  Prue's  sheets 
jump  us  straight  away  to  Carolina  in  North  America, 
and  the  cotton  fields,  and  the  negroes  at  work  there, 
and  the  great  Atlantic  steamers  being  laden  with  the 
bales,  and  the  Lancashire  cotton  mills,  and  the  girls 
in  clogs,  and  the  boys  thinking  of  football  as  they 
work,  and  the  broad,  Lancashire  dialect  filling  the  air, 
and  ...  do  you  see  what  a  task  we  have  before  us  ? 
While  as  for  Prue's  blankets,  they  take  us  farther 
still,  right  away  to  Australia,  to  a  great  sheep  farm 
with  thousands  and  thousands  of  sheep,  and  the  hot 
sun,  and  the  dry  Bush  stretching  as  far  as  the  eye  can 
reach,  and  the  rouseabouts  driving  the  sheep  up  to  the 
shearing  sheds,  and  rows  of  half-naked  men  shearing 
and  shearing,  with  the  sheep  kicking  and  struggling 
beneath  them.  Think  of  the  heat  of  it  all,  and  the 
dust  and  thirst  and  weariness,  and  nothing  to  do 
when  evening  comes  in  this  wilderness  but  rest  and 
get  ready  for  the  next  day !  And  then  the  despatch 
of  the  wool  in  wagons  to  the  nearest  train,  and  the 
train  going  to  the  port  and  the  long  voyage  to  the 
factory  in  England  where  it  is  to  be  spun.  How 
many  sheep's  warm  coats  contributed  to  make  one  of 
your  blankets?  You  never  thought  of  that  before, 
perhaps.  But  still  we  have  not  reached  the  awakening 
of  Prue's  consciousness  on  this  great  matter  of  her- 
self and  the  world.) 

She   lay   there   in   that  blessed   half-awake,   half- 
asleep  state  for  some  minutes,  until  she  began  to  feel 


LONDON  LAVENDER  193 

something  warm  on  her  cheek,  and  realized  that  it 
was  the  sun.  And  she  suddenly  thought  how 
wonderful  it  was  that  there  should  be  such  a  sub- 
stance as  glass  which  can  keep  out  the  cold  but 
lets  light  and  warmth  through  it,  and,  idly  thinking, 
she  began  to  wonder  how  glass  is  made,  and  when  it 
was  discovered,  and  what  people  did  before  they  had 
it,  and  either  how  draughty  or  how  dark  their  rooms 
must  have  been;  and  she  determined  to  ask  her 
father  and  Miss  Fry  about  it;  and  that  was  the 
beginning  of  this  story. 

From  the  window  as  she  lay  there,  her  eyes  strayed 
all  round  the  room,  and  everything  that  they  saw  set 
her  wondering  afresh.  It  was  a  very  nice  little 
bedroom.  The  wall-paper  was  white,  with  little 
bunches  of  wall-paper  flowers  tied  with  blue  ribbon 
all  over  it  —  the  kind  of  wall-paper  that  does  not  look 
like  anything  but  what  it  is  and  is  therefore  happy 
and  restful,  and  very  different  from  the  wall-paper 
that  was  there  when  Prue  had  measles  last  year. 
That  had  a  curly,  twisted  pattern  on  it  which,  when 
Prue  had  fever,  turned  into  animals  and  frightened 
her ;  and  then  it  was  badly  hung  in  some  places,  and 
Prue  would  lie  there  for  hours  wishing  that  it  fitted 
and  longing  to  get  up  and  alter  it.  But  the  new 
paper  was  gay  and  properly  pasted  on,  and  Prue 
liked  it  very  much. 

On  the  walls  were  a  few  pictures  —  one  or  two 
coloured  ones  from  the  Christmas  numbers  in  cheap 
frames  (glass  again  !)  and  the  "Angels'  heads,"  by 


194  LONDON  LAVENDER 

Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  from  the  National  Gallery,  and 
the  little  King  Philip  on  his  pony,  by  Velasquez, 
from  the  Wallace  Collection,  and  an  illuminated 
text  from  Aunt  Mildred,  very  beautifully  done  in 
gold  and  water-colours — "The  Lord  is  my  Shep- 
herd," and  a  Shakespeare  date  calendar.  There  were 
ornaments  on  the  mantelpiece  —  a  gaily-painted 
wooden  figure  from  Munich,  two  Japanese  vases,  a 
tiny  cat  and  a  tiny  dog  in  brass,  painted  just  like  life, 
from  Vienna,  and  a  serpentine  cup  from  the  Lizard. 
In  the  fire-place  was  coal  and  wood  all  ready  to  be 
lit  when  Prue  had  a  cold.  Before  the  window  was  her 
dressing-table  with  a  mirror  over  it,  and  her  brush 
and  comb  and  so  forth  on  little  mats  with  fringe 
round  them.  Then  there  were  the  curtains,  and  the 
blind,  and  the  wardrobe  of  white  wood  with  a  little 
painted  pattern,  and  the  chest  of  drawers,  and  the 
washing-stand  with  soap  and  toothbrush  and  so  forth, 
and  the  chairs.  There  was  also  a  little  hanging 
bookshelf,  and  on  the  floor  was  a  bright  green  carpet. 

Prue  lay  in  her  little  brass  bed  and  looked  at  these 
things  one  by  one  while  the  sun  continued  to  pour 
through  the  windows  and  the  time  to  get  up  came 
nearer  and  nearer.  And  all  the  while  she  was  getting 
up  she  was  thinking  about  these  things,  and  how 
they  were  made,  and  where  they  came  from,  and 
when  she  came  downstairs  she  told  her  father  about 
it.  £ 

We  have  seen  something  about  the  origin  of  the 
sheets  and  the  blankets  of  Prue's   bed.     But  what 


LONDON  LAVENDER  195 

about  the  mattress  and  the  pillows  and  the  framework. 
Just  as  before  there  could  be  the  blankets  there  had 
to  be  sheep  with  fleece  on  their  backs,  so  before  there 
could  be  this  mattress  there  had  to  be  horses,  for  it 
was  stuffed  with  horsehair,  the  long  hairs  combed 
from  their  tails  chiefly  in  Russia,  South  America,  and 
Australia.  But,  you  say,  the  hair  in  a  horse's  tail  is 
long  and  straight,  while  the  hair  that  one  can  pull 
out  of  mattresses  is  short  and  curly.  That  is  true ; 
but  the  curl  has  been  put  there  artificially,  for  a 
number  of  processes  have  to  be  gone  through 
between  the  combing  of  the  tail  and  Prue's  slumbers 
on  the  mattress,  and  curling  the  hair  is  one  of  the 
most  important,  or  there  would  be  no  spring  to  it. 
And  just  as  sheep  and  horses  had  to  live  before 
there  could  be  blankets  or  mattresses,  so  did  geese 
have  to  cackle  over  commons  and  be  killed  for  the 
market  before  Prue  could  lay  her  head  on  that  soft 
pillow.  The  goose  is  a  familiar  enough  bird;  a 
much  rarer  bird  contributed  to  keep  Prue  warm  at 
nights  by  supplying  her  with  the  beautiful  soft  quilt 
that  lay  on  the  top  of  her  bed  —  the  eider  duck.  The 
eider  duck  is  a  bird  that  lives  in  very  cold  regions, 
such  as  Spitzbergen  and  Greenland  and  Iceland  and 
the  north  of  Norway.  The  down  comes  from  her 
breast  and  is  plucked  by  herself  to  cover  her  eggs 
and  keeps  them  warm.  Having  marked  down  an 
eider-duck's  nest,  the  down-hunter  takes  away  all  its 
contents,  and  this  he  does  again  and  again  at  in- 
tervals of  a  few  days  until  he  guesses  that  the  eider- 


196  LONDON  LAVENDER 

duck's  patience  is  almost  exhausted.  He  then  leaves 
the  eggs  and  down  undisturbed,  for  fear  that  she  will 
lay  no  more.  The  business  of  collecting  down  has 
become  so  important  that  artificial  nests  are  made  to 
which  the  birds  gladly  come,  and  in  which,  in  spite 
of  the  way  they  are  treated,  they  bravely  go  on 
laying  eggs.  From  each  of  these  nests  half  a  pound 
of  down  is  collected  each  breeding  season ;  but  before 
it  is  ready  to  be  put  into  quilts  it  has  to  be  washed 
and  cleaned  to  such  an  extent  that  the  half-pound 
has  dwindled  to  a  quarter.  It  all  does  not  sound 
very  gentlemanly,  does  it  ?  but  there  are  worse  things 
than  that  in  store  for  us.  Well-to-do  little  girls  in 
London  cannot  be  made  comfortable  without  a  good 
deal  of  suffering  going  on  in  other  parts  of  the  world. 

Take  the  looking-glass,  for  example,  over  there 
on  the  dressing-table :  what  about  the  brightness 
at  the  back  of  it  which  makes  it  reflect,  and  reflect 
not  only  what  is  in  front  of  it  but,  as  you  have 
probably  discovered  by  looking  sideways  at  it,  that 
which  is  apparently  wholly  out  of  its  range  too. 
I  must  confess  that  this  strange  power  of  a  mirror 
amazes  me  as  much  as  its  ordinary  gift  of  reflecting 
what  is  straight  in  front  of  it  amazes  a  dog.  The 
reflecting  power  of  a  mirror  is  obtained  by  spreading 
mercury  or  quicksilver  on  the  back;  but  before  this 
can  be  done  the  mercury  has  to  be  obtained,  and 
that  process  is  one  of  the  most  dangerous  to  men. 

Quicksilver  is  a  most  delightful  plaything.  The 
first  school  to  which  I  was  sent,  a  school  for  girls  and 


LONDON  LAVENDER  197 

boys,  was  kept  by  a  little  old  Quaker  lady  with 
highly-magnifying,  gold-rimmed  spectacles,  who,  when  ' 
we  had  been  good,  used  to  bring  out  a  little  bottle 
of  quicksilver  and  pour  great  shining  drops  from  it 
on  the  green  baize  table,  and  it  would  run  about 
in  all  directions.  No  doubt  she  explained  the  origin 
and  nature  of  mercury  as  it  ran,  but  I  have  for- 
gotten that.  All  that  I  remember  and  have  always 
remembered  is  that  the  presence  of  the  quicksilver 
proved  that  we  had  been  good  and  that  everyone 
was  happy;  and  it  remains  in  my  mind  as  a  sign  of 
content.  This  little  old  lady  with  the  gold-rimmed 
spectacles  kept  also  a  casket  containing  those  yellow, 
round,  gelatine  lozenges  which  look  like  sovereigns, 
and  which  confectioners  often  use  to  mend  broken 
windows  with.  One  of  them  was  given  to  any  child 
who  coughed.  You  should  have  heard  what  a  lot  of 
coughing  there  was  ! 

There  I  stopped  the  first  lesson;  and,  as  it 
happened,  there  the  experiment  stopped  permanently. 
For  I  had  let  loose  the  furies  !  For  the  rest  of  that 
evening  and  the  whole  of  the  next  morning,  before 
we  got  them  into  the  sea,  the  children  did  nothing 
but  ask  questions  as  to  the  origin  of  this  and  that. 
We  were  in  despair,  and  my  unpopularity  reached  a 
point  almost  beyond  endurance.  Frank  avoided  his 
family  as  though  it  owed  him  money;  Wynne  was 
undisguisedly  testy,  and  even  Mrs.  Frank  confessed 
that  children's  intelligences  can  be  overstimulated. 


198  LONDON  LAVENDER 

"At  any  rate,"  she  said,  "at  Rimini  and  in  summer. 
You  must  wait  till  we  get  back  and  it  is  colder." 

I  accepted  the  decree  with  composure. 

"At  any  rate,"  I  said,  "you  will  admit  that  the 
idea  was  good." 

"It  depends,"  she  said,  "on  Frank.  If  he  returns 
to  his  wife  I  will  forgive  you." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

IN  WHICH  WE  MAKE  THE  MISTAKE  OF  PRE- 
FERRING "RICH  EYES"  TO  COMFORT,  AND 
TASTE  THE  QUESTIONABLE  PLEASURES  OF  A 
MINUTE   REPUBLIC 

WE  made  an  excursion  or  so,  but  not  with  any 
avidity;  the  sea  was  too  good  to  leave,  and 
it  was  the  sea  that  we  had  come  all  this  way  to  enjoy, 
as  one  cannot  enjoy  it  at  home  except  on  days  that 
are  so  few  and  far  between  as  by  their  very  rarity  to 
make  for  misgivings  rather  than  delight.  It  was 
also  so  hot  that  to  be  in  the  train  at  all  was  a  dis- 
tress, while  to  be  in  the  train  in  the  middle  hours 
was  martyrdom ;  and  to  be  in  a  strange  town  in  the 
middle  hours  was  discomfort  too.  But  as  it  seemed 
wrong  to  be  so  near  Ravenna  and  not  see  it,  we 
made  a  great  effort  and  were  away  before  seven  one 
lovely  morning.  It  was  a  day  of  interesting  sights 
and  associations ;  but  how  the  call  of  the  placid,  wet 
exhilarating  Adriatic  sounded  in  our  ears  the  while  ! 
Ravenna  has  had  two  immense  losses  :  first  the 
sea,  which  gradually  withdrew  from  the  town  centuries 
ago ;  and  then  the  Pinetum,  which,  after  centuries  of 
existence,  was   burned  down  not  many  years  since. 

199 


2oo  LONDON  LAVENDER 

The  nearness  of  such  a  forest  must  have  both 
sweetened  and  cooled  the  city;  to-day  its  heat  can 
be  pitiless. 

The  two  lodestars  of  Ravenna  are  the  exile  poets 
Dante  and  Byron  —  but  Dante,  of  course,  far  out- 
shines that  other.  Byron  is  an  accident  here ;  Dante 
gives  Ravenna  most  of  its  lustre,  for  here  he  made 
his  home  for  many  years  after  Florence  turned  him 
forth ;  here  he  wrote  most  of  the  "Divine  Comedy  "  ; 
here  he  died.  We  saw  his  tomb,  and  afterwards  we 
saw  his  bones  in  their  wooden  coffin  in  the  library  of 
the  old  Camaldulensian  monastery  of  Classe,  now  a 
civic  building  with  an  immense  collection  of  Dante 
literature.  Here,  too,  we  were  shown  by  the  custodian 
a  little  illuminated  Book  of  Hours  that  belonged  to 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  and  is  as  pretty  as  a  Kate 
Greenaway  calendar  and  indeed  rather  like  one ;  but 
how  it  came  to  be  at  Ravenna,  I  cannot  say.  And 
where  it  ought  to  be,  were  there  a  general  restitution 
of  foreign  treasures  to  their  rightful  situations,  I 
cannot  say  either. 

One  other  thing  we  saw  in  this  museum  —  the  bed- 
stead on  which  Garibaldi's  wife,  Anita,  died  in  1849, 
during  the  flight  from  the  Austrians;  and  a  few 
minutes  later  we  saw  a  little  company  of  Garibaldi's 
veterans,  lame  and  decrepit,  place  a  wreath  on  the 
patriot's  statue,  just  by  the  Hotel  Byron,  amid  apathy 
which  would  be  striking  anywhere,  but  among  Italians 
was  astounding.  Not  a  soul  but  ourselves  and  some 
errand  boys  watched  or  followed. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  201 

We  had  lunch  at  the  Hotel  Byron,  in  a  vast  salon, 
on  the  polished  floor  of  which  I  seemed  to  hear  his 
capricious  lordship's  club  foot ;  for  this  was  his  home 
for  two  years,  in  1819-1821,  when  it  was  called  the 
Palazzo  Rasponi,  and  here  he  consoled  himself  with 
his  large,  blonde,  stupid  Guiccioli ;  here  he  wrote 
myriad  letters  to  Murray;  and  here  Shelley  stayed 
with  him  and  despatched  that  amusing  missive  to 
Thomas  Love  Peacock,  detailing  not  only  the  spoiled 
poet's  extraordinary  habits  but  also  his  extraordinary 
house-mates.  "Lord  Byron  gets  up  at  two.  I  get 
up,  quite  contrary  to  my  usual  custom,  but  one  must 
sleep  or  die,  like  Southey's^  sea-snake  in  'Kehama,' 
at  twelve..  '  After"  break: ;ii.t  ~ we  £it  talking  till  six. 
From  six  lUl/^lit  ;.ve  gaHop  through  the  pine  forests 
which  divide  "Raveh'r.a  frpn  tue  s<  ;i ;  .we  then  come 
home  and  dine,  and  sit  up  gossiping  till  six  in  the 
morning.  I  don't  suppose  this  will  kill  me  in  a  week 
or  fortnight,  but  I  shall  not  try  it  longer.  Lord  B.'s 
establishment  consists,  besides  servants,  of  ten  horses, 
eight  enormous  dogs,  three  monkeys,  five  cats,  an 
eagle,  a  crow,  and  a  falcon ;  and  all  these,  except  the 
horses,  walk  about  the  house,  winch  every  now  and 
then  resounds  with  their  unarbitrated  quarrels,  as  if 
they  were  the  masters  of  it.  .  .  .  After  I  have  sealed 
my  letter,  I  rind  that  my  enumeration  of  the  animals 
in  this  Circean  Palace  was  defective,  and  that  in  a 
material  point.  I  have  just  met  on  the  grand  stair- 
case five  peacocks,  two  guinea  hens,  and  an  Egyptian 
crane.     I  wonder  who  all  these  animals  were  before 


202  LONDON  LAVENDER 

they  were  changed  into  these  shapes."  Odd  to  have 
this  letter  in  one's  mind  in  this  now  highly  respectable 
building,  where  the  only  animals  are  men,  women, 
and  waiters. 

For  the  rest,  I  think  now  of  Ravenna  chiefly  as  a 
city  of  mosaic  churches  under  a  sky  of  brass,  and 
wonder  and  wonder  how  —  even  with  the  Pinetum 
and  the  abounding  Guiccioli  —  Byron  can  have  been 
willing  to  stay  there  so  long. 

We  returned  from  the  little  wayside  station  of 
Classe,  a  mile  or  so  outside  Ravenna,  in  order  to 
visit  the  vast  deserted  fane  of  Sant'  Apollinaris  in 
Classe  Fuori,  which  rears,  its/huge  bulk  irom  the  plain 
like  a  mammoth.  This, basilica  was  buili  in  the  sixth 
century  and  .  seems  likely  to  stand"  for  fourteen 
centuries  more,  if-  pemutted  to;  it  is  empty  and 
forlorn,  with  a  wretched  old  custodian  to  open  the 
doors  upon  its  lost  magnificence,  for  though  the 
mosaics  remain,  our  friend  Sigismondo  Pandolfo 
Malatesta  of  Rimini  carried  off  its  marble  in  1449. 
Past  this  church  rode  Byron  almost  daily  on  his  way 
to  the  pine  forest. 

On  another  day  we  drove  from  Rimini  to  San 
Marino  —  a  day  ill-spent  indeed,  for  the  sun  shone, 
and  our  backs  were  to  the  sea  all  the  way  there,  and 
returning  it  was  too  late  for  bathing.  Why  does  one 
do  these  things?  In  England  one  can  resist  the 
deadly  lure  of  the  excursion ;  but  abroad,  no. 

San  Marino  means  two  horses  and  a  carriage  with 
an  awning  —  in  our  case  two  carriages  with  awnings 


LONDON  LAVENDER  203 

and  four  horses,  at  twenty-five  lire  the  carriage.  And 
for  what  ?  For  a  long,  dull,  dusty  drive  between 
vineyards  to  a  baking  rock  and  back  again.  This 
rock  is  the  centre  of  the  republic  of  San  Marino,  and 
I  do  not  deny  that  its  little  city  is  piled  bravely  upon 
it;  but  the  wise  traveller  will  permit  the  camera  to 
make  the  journey  for  him.  Having  left  Rimini  at 
seven  we  were  there  by  half-past  ten,  and  we  had  not 
been  within  the  gates  twenty  minutes  before  I  found 
one  of  the  drivers  and  told  him  that  we  would  return 
at  once.  Idle  breath  !  No  one  returns  at  once,  or 
does  anything  at  once,  in  these  parts.  Impossible, 
he  said.  The  horses  were  worn  out  with  the  journey. 
The  sun  was  too  powerful.  We  could  leave  at  three 
—  not  a  moment  sooner.  Here  then  we  remained, 
bound  to  this  blistering  crag,  like  so  many  Pro- 
metheus's,  for  four  hours ;  while  the  sea  sparkled  for  us 
only  ten  miles  away.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  could 
have  got  off  earlier  had  I  known  and  insisted.  It 
was  not  the  fatigue  of  the  horses,  it  was  not  the  heat, 
that  detained  us  ;  but  one  of  the  drivers  was  courting 
a  San  Marino  girl. 

I  warn  all  intending  visitors  to  San  Marino  that 
after  having  bought  some  of  its  absurd  postage- 
stamps,  on  the  sale  of  which  it  subsists,  and 
attempted  to  eat  its  inferior  food,  there  is,  in  hot 
weather,  nothing  whatever  to  do.  To  climb  to  the 
citadel  is  too  exhausting;  to  explore  the  public 
buildings  is  impossible,  after  Rimini's  cathedral,  for 
if  there  is  one  more  ridiculous  thing  than  another  it 


204  LONDON  LAVENDER 

is  a  toy  republic.  San  Marino  once  belonged  to 
Urbino,  and,  declining  to  be  joined  to  the  Papal 
states  in  1631,  it  has  remained  independent.  The 
population  is  about  ten  thousand,  chiefly  peasants, 
who  scratch  the  rock  with  hoes  and  breed  cattle,  and 
the  Government  consists  of  a  Grand  Council  of  sixty 
life  members,  of  which  a  third  are  nobles,  while  a 
smaller  Supreme  Council  of  twelve  are  chosen  from 
these.  You  see  them  on  the  picture  post-cards,  which 
compete  with  the  stamps  for  the  money  of  the 
stranger,  and  it  is  a  few  minutes'  beguilement  to 
endeavour  to  set  the  point  of  a  pin  between  the 
nobles  and  the  others. 

So  what  did  we  do  ?  We  sat  on  a  little  balcony  of 
the  inn,  overlooking  a  tiny  piazza,  and  watched  such 
life  as  the  place  has,  which  became  almost  galvanic 
when,  after  a  terrible  cracking  of  whips,  a  mule 
rounded  the  corner  dragging  behind  it  a  water-cart, 
and  all  the  republicans  swarmed  about  this  cart  with 
vessels  in  which  to  carry  off  the  precious  fluid  at  so 
much  a  litre. 

That  was  the  last  of  our  follies.  For  the  rest  of 
the  time  we  were  in  Rimini  we  made  Rimini  suffice 
—  bathing  or  watching  the  sea  and  its  serene  yellow 
sails  all  the  day,  and  afterwards  taking  short  lazy 
walks  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  —  now  beside  the 
river,  from  the  bridge  to  the  harbour  mouth  and 
back  again,  past  all  the  activities  of  this  little  port 
of  fishermen;  now  round  the  walls  of  the  town;  now 
in  the  by-streets;  and  now  down  to  the  sea  again, 


LONDON  LAVENDER  205 

after  dinner,  to  see  the  moon  and  perhaps  hear  a 
little  music. 

Except  for  mosquito  bites  we  all  kept  well,  in 
spite  of  the  heat  and  in  defiance  of  the  prophecies 
of  many  friends,  who  took  the  gloomiest  views  of 
Italian  drinking  water.  But  the  mosquitoes!  There 
is  no  preparation  against  mosquitoes  sold  by  Italian 
chemists  that  we  did  not  rub  on  our  luckless  skins; 
yet  all  in  vain.  We  came  at  last  to  believe  that  it  is 
an  Italian  form  of  humour,  this  preparation,  under 
the  name  of  preventives,  of  expensive  delicacies  dear 
to  the  mosquito  palate  —  an  Italian  joke  against  the 
English.  Be  that  as  it  may,  nothing  did  any  good ; 
while  as  for  the  little  cones  which  we  burned  at  night, 
filling  the  room  with  a  thick  aromatic  smoke 
guaranteed  to  disgust  these  insects  more  than  any- 
thing else,  I  used  to  wake  up  and  hear  them  drawing 
great  draughts  of  it  into  their  lungs  as  if  it  were 
ozone. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

IN  WHICH  TWO  MODERN  LOVERS  LAY  THEIR 
CASES  BEFORE  ME  AND  I  DO  NOTHING  FOR 
EITHER 

I  HAVE  had  two  lovers  to  see  me :  such  different 
ones  too.  The  first  was  Dollie  Heathcote,  very 
nervous  —  for  him;  which  means  that  his  eyeglass 
dropped  ten  times  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  instead  of 
only  five  times.  If  he  would  wear  a  cord  this  would 
not  matter ;  but  as  he  has  an  objection  to  do  so,  a 
great  deal  of  his  time  is  spent  on  the  floor,  which,  in 
one  so  thoughtful  of  the  knees  of  his  trousers,  is  a 
curious  anomaly. 

"Look  here,  Mr.  Falconer,"  said  Dollie,  "you  know 
the  world  and  you're  married.  What  do  you  advise 
me  to  do  ?  Do  you  think  I'm  really  a  marrying 
man?" 

"Not  impetuously,"  I  replied. 

"Oh,"  he  said,  "no  rotting.  You  see,  it's  like  this. 
I'm  awfully  keen  on  Ann  and  she's  keen  on  me,  I 
believe,  but  I've  had  a  bit  of  a  facer  lately.  There's 
my  brother  Dick,  for  example,  a  much  better  sort 
than  I  am  —  much  steadier  and  domesticated  and  all 
that  —  well,  he's  just  left  his  wife  for  no  other  reason 

206 


LONDON  LAVENDER  207 

than  because  he's  tired  of  her.  Whether  there's  any- 
one else,  I  don't  know;  fellows  at  the  Club  tell  me 
there  always  is.  But  Dick  swears  there  isn't.  Any- 
way, he's  gone.  That's  one  thing.  Another  thing  is 
that  I  had  a  fearful  jaw  the  other  day  from  an  old 
aunt  of  mine  who  says  it's  the  cruellest  and  wickedest 
thing  there  is  to  be  engaged  to  a  girl  for  a  long  time 
and  not  marry  her ;  because  the  girl's  losing  the  best 
years  of  her  life.  That  set  me  thinking,  because 
don't  you  see  there's  always  the  possibility  that  Ann, 
although  she  doesn't  mind  knocking  about  with  me, 
might,  if  she  were  free,  meet  some  other  Johnnie 
whom  she  would  want  to  marry  at  once." 

"How  would  you  like  to  see  her  doing  that?"  I 
asked. 

"Oh,  I  couldn't  stand  it,"  said  Dollie. 

"Then  why  don't  you  marry  now?"  I  asked. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "for  one  thing,  Ann  doesn't  seem 
to  want  to,  and  for  another,  I  don't  much  want  to 
myself." 

"But  you're  so  keen  on  her,  you  say,"  I  remarked. 

'Yes,  of  course  I  am.  But  the  word  husband's  so 
stuffy." 

I  groaned  for  the  younger  generation. 

'Yes,"  he  went  on,  "I'm  glad  you  agree  with  me. 
And  there's  something  so  ghastly  in  the  thought  of 
settling  down,  don't  you  know." 

:'Well,  that's  what  so  many  people  like  —  the  set- 
tlement of  it.  But  look  at  your  friend  Farrar,  he's 
not  exactly  a  home-bird,  yet  he  and  his  wife  seem 


2o8  LONDON  LAVENDER 

very  happy,  and  they  lead,  married,  very  much  the 
same  life  that  you  do,  unmarried." 

"That's  true,"  said  Dollie.  "  But  he's  Farrar,  and 
I'm  not.  I'm  another  Johnnie  altogether  —  the  sort 
that's  ever  so  much  happier  engaged  than  he  will  be 
when  he's  married ;  and  so's  Ann,  I  believe ;  but  the 
silly  thing  about  it  is  that  we're  only  so  happy  now 
because  the  idea  is  we're  going  to  be  married  —  other- 
wise she  wouldn't  be  allowed  to  go  about  with  me  at 
all.  Isn't  that  what  you  call  a  bally  paradox  ?  But 
anyhow,  what  do  you  advise?" 

"Suppose  I  were  to  say,"  I  replied,  "that  my  advice 
to  you  was  to  marry  at  once. " 

He  started  nervously.  " Oh,  I  say,"  he  said.  "Not 
really.  But  that  would  be  awfully  risky,  you 
know.  Look  at  poor  old  Dick  —  suppose  I  got  tired 
like  that  too?  And  it's  not  impossible,  you  know. 
Why,  I  was  awfully  fond  of  Naomi  once,  and  then 
you  remember  Miss  Verity.  I  was  fearfully  gone 
there  for  a  while.  Do  you  really  think  I  ought  to 
make  the  plunge?" 

"Then  suppose,"  I  said,  "that  my  advice  was,  go 
to  Ann  and  say  that  you  have  realized  that  you  don't 
love  her  enough"  —  he  started  nervously  again  — 
"  and  wish  to  break  off  your  engagement." 

"Oh,  but,"  he  said,  "I  don't.  I  should  be  miserable 
without  her.     And  so  would  she." 

"Well,"  I  said,  "since  no  practical  advice  would 
meet  your  views,,  as  I  suspected,  the  only  thing  I  can 
give  is  a  sermon,  or  address,  on  the  dangers  of  the 


LONDON  LAVENDER  209 

new  cult  of  diversion  which  deprives  the  character 
of  any  intensity,  and  leave  you  to  draw  the  right 
moral.  But  I'm  not  going  to  do  that.  You  are  both 
obviously  very  weak  in  what  the  phrenologists  call 
philo-progenitiveness.  If  you  could  only  develope 
that  bump  the  problem  would  solve  itself.  That, 
however,  is  a  counsel  of  perfection.  My  advice,  then, 
is  this :  in  the  words  of  an  illustrious  statesman,  culti- 
vate an  attitude  of  expectant  hesitancy." 

Dollie  looked  very  blank. 

"Put  in  another  way,"  I  said,  "wait  and  see." 

"Oh,  I  say,"  he  said,  "no  chaff !" 

"But  I  really  mean  it,"  I  said. 

"Honour  bright?"  he  asked. 

"Absolutely,"  I  said. 

"Thanks  awfully,"  he  replied,  shaking  my  hand. 
"Tophole.     That's   a  great  load  off  my  mind." 

I  was  glad  to  see  him  go. 

The  bore  about  the  people  who  ask  for  advice  is 
that  they  never  tell  everything;  and  it  is  just  the 
reservations  that  make  the  case  complex. 

The  second  lover  was  poor  Spanton. 

"How's  Nancy?"  I  asked. 

His  face  fell.  "As  a  matter  of  fact,"  he  said,  "I 
wanted  to  see  you  about  Nancy.  She  has  broken  off 
our  engagement.  I  had  her  letter  this  morning,  and 
of  course  I  went  down  at  once  to  put  the  matter 
right.  You  see,  she  has  been  away  on  a  visit  and 
must  have  come  under  some  foolish  influence.  She's 
a  very  impressionable  girl.  I  couldn't  get  her  to 
p 


210  LONDON  LAVENDER 

admit  this,  but  I'm  sure  it's  the  case.  Nothing  that 
I  said  was  any  good.  For  the  moment  she  is  out  of 
her  mind,  I  think.  She  simply  refused  to  discuss  it, 
merely  saying  that  she  had  discovered  that  she  did 
not  feel  for  me  as  deeply  as  she  ought  to  if  we  were 
to  marry.  So  absurd  to  talk  like  that  at  her  age  and 
with  her  inexperience,  when,  as  I  told  her,  I  had 
deliberately  chosen  her  —  picked  her  out  from  all  the 
other  girls  I  knew." 

Luckily  he  sprang  up  at  this  moment  and  began 
to  pace  about,  or  he  would  have  seen  my  face. 

"I  went  on  to  remind  her,"  he  continued,  "of  the 
campaign  we  had  planned  for  ourselves  —  my  great 
social  amelioration  programme  —  and  showed  her  how 
she  was  breaking  faith  not  only  with  me,  but  with  the 
country,  the  race.  Useless.  She  merely  repeated 
her  original  phrase  like  a  parrot.  I  left  her  and 
appealed  to  Mr.  Freeland,  but  he  said  he  should  not 
interfere.  Nancy  was  old  enough  to  know.  Don't 
worry  her  now,  he  said :  give  her  another  week's 
holiday.  I  saw  Mrs.  Freeland,  who  is,  of  course,  as 
you  must  have  noticed,  desperately  out  of  date ;  and 
she,  too,  declined  to  fight  for  me.  She  was  very 
sorry,  she  said,  and  hoped  that  Nancy  knew  her  own 
mind ;  but  how  much  better  to  discover  a  mistake 
early  rather  than  late  !  You  know  how  people  always 
say  this,  and  when  it  is  a  mistake  I  agree  with 
them ;  but  this  is  not  a  mistake,  but  the  simulacrum 
of  a  mistake.  How  can  Nancy  know  her  own  mind 
when  she  has  not  got  one?     She  is  a  dear,  sweet 


LONDON  LAVENDER  211 

girl,  and  I  was  devoted  to  her — am  devoted  to  her — 
but  she  has  no  mind.  It  was  I  who  was  to  give  her 
that." 

What  was  I  to  say  to  him?  Was  I  to  say — what 
was  of  course  evident  to  anyone  but  himself  —  that 
she  had  found  some  simple  fellow  on  her  own  level 
whom  she  liked  better?  Was  I  to  say,  "You  silly 
young  ass,  you  deserve  to  lose  her  for  not  taking  her 
as  she  was  and  loving  that,  instead  of  playing  the 
dictator  and  unsexing  her  ?  For  the  best  thing  in  the 
world  is  a  pretty,  affectionate  girl  true  to  her  nature, 
and  the  silliest  thing  is  a  pretty,  affectionate  girl 
pretending  to  be  something  she  is  not." 

Either  of  these  speeches  I  might  have  made,  but  in- 
stead I  sympathized  with  him  and  advised  him  to  wait 
a  little  longer  before  confessing  complete  failure. 

"No,"  he  said;  "her  attitude  was  final.  I  don't 
feel  as  if  I  could  reopen  the  matter.  All  those 
laughing  sisters,  too." 

(I  liked  to  hear  that  human  note.) 

"No,  I  shall  go  abroad  for  a  while  and  then  gather 
up  the  fragments  and  begin  again.  But  of  course  I 
shan't  marry  now.     That's  the  end  of  women  for  me." 

And  with  these  words,  which  the  ironical  gods 
must  be  so  tired  of  hearing,  he  strode  away. 

It  was,  I  must  admit,  a  little  to  my  relief.  It  is 
difficult  to  take  these  perplexities  of  other  persons 
seriously.  One  somehow  has  the  feeling  that  one's 
own  wedding  should  be  the  last. 

Spanton  does  not  admit  that  he  has  been  in  any 


2i2  LONDON  LAVENDER 

way  to  blame  about  Nancy.  He  is  still  the  same 
ardent  futurist,  unshaken  in  anything  but  woman's 
stability  (in  which,  however,  of  course,  he  never  had 
much  belief) ;  yet,  none  the  less,  when  we  were  on  a 
motor  bus  the  other  day,  bowling  down  the  Hampstead 
Road  like  an  avalanche,  I  saw  a  wistful  expression 
come  into  his  face  as  he  watched  two  lovers  on  the 
seat  in  front  of  us.  They  were  quite  common,  from 
the  superior  point  of  view,  he  a  shop  assistant  or  clerk 
and  she  a  clerk  or  shop  assistant,  and  her  engage- 
ment ring  was  only  a  pearl  surrounded  by  five  little 
turquoises ;  but  they  were  as  near  as  possible  to  each 
other,  and  one  happiness  did  for  both,  and  the  only 
words  I  caught  were  his,  in  a  lull  in  the  racket  made 
by  our  terrible  vehicle,  when  he  finished  a  sentencs 
by  saying,  "And  of  course  I  shall  have  to  obey  you 
then"  A  sickening  sentiment  for  Spanton  to  hear, 
yet  none  the  less,  although  a  spasm  crossed  his  face, 
it  did  not  kill  the  wistful  look. 

What  I  am  now  wondering  is  whether  he  has  learnt 
anything  from  what  has  happened.  Because,  of 
course,  many  of  us  learn  so  badly,  and  Spanton  is  so 
lacking  in  humility,  which  is  the  seed-of-learning's 
most  fruitful  soil.  That  Nancy  has  made  no  mistake, 
I  feel  convinced;  nor  will  any  bitterness  be  hers. 
There  she  is  fortunate.  One  of  the  hardest  things  in 
life,  and  for  women,  is  that  it  is  only  by  failing  to 
make  one  woman  happy  that  many  a  man  acquires 
the  experience  which  is  to  serve  him  in  succeeding 
with  another. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

IN  WHICH  A  COMPANY  OF  INTELLIGENT  AND 
FOR  THE  MOST  PART  CONCEITED  MEN  MEET 
MORE  THAN   THEIR  MATCH 

I  STILL  tingle  with  mortification  over  an 
experience  at  Dabney's  last  evening,  the  only- 
satisfaction  being  that  others  tingle  with  me.  We 
were  talking  of  the  supernatural  —  that  unprofit- 
able but  endlessly  alluring  theme  —  and  most  of  us 
had  cited  an  instance,  without,  however,  producing 
much  effect.  Among  the  strangers  to  me  was  a 
little  man  with  an  anxious  white  face,  whom  Rudson- 
Wayte  had  brought,  and  he  watched  each  speaker 
with  the  closest  attention,  but  said  nothing.  Then 
Dabney,  wishing  to  include  him  in  the  talk,  turned  to 
him  and  asked  if  he  had  no  experience  to  relate,  no 
story  that  contained  an  inexplicable  element. 

He  thought  a  moment.  ''Well,"  he  said,  "not  a 
story  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word:  nothing, 
that  is,  from  hearsay,  like  most  of  your  examples. 
Truth,  I  always  hold,  is  not  only  vastly  stranger  than 
fiction,  but  also  vastly  more  interesting.  I  could  tell 
you  an  occurrence  which  happened  to  me  personally, 

213 


2i4  LONDON  LAVENDER 

and  which  oddly  enough  completed  itself  only  this 
afternoon." 

We  begged  him  to  begin. 

'"A  year  or  two  ago,"  he  said,  "I  was  in  rooms  in 
Great  Ormond  Street  —  an  old  house  on  the  Holborn 
side.  The  bedroom  walls  had  been  distempered  by 
a  previous  tenant,  but  the  place  was  damp  and  great 
patches  of  discoloration  had  broken  out.  One  of 
these  —  as  indeed  often  happens  —  was  exactly  like 
a  human  face;  but  more  faithfully  and  startlingly 
like  than  is  customary.  Lying  in  bed  in  the  morning, 
putting  off  getting  up,  I  used  to  watch  it  and  watch 
it,  and  gradually  I  came  to  think  of  it  as  real  —  as 
my  fellow-lodger,  in  fact.  The  odd  thing  was  that 
while  the  patches  on  the  walls  grew  larger  and  changed 
their  contours,  this  never  did.  It  remained  iden- 
tically the  same. 

"While  there,  I  had  a  very  bad  attack  of  influenza, 
with  complications,  and  all  day  long  I  had  nothing 
to  do  but  read  or  meditate,  and  it  was  then  that  this 
face  began  to  get  a  firmer  hold  of  me.  It  grew  more 
and  more  real  and  remarkable.  I  may  say  that  it 
dominated  my  thoughts  day  and  night.  There  was  a 
curious  turn  to  the  nose,  and  the  slant  of  the  forehead 
was  unique.  It  was,  in  fact,  full  of  individuality  :  the 
face  of  a  man  apart,  a  man  in  a  thousand. 

"Well,  I  got  better,  but  the  face  still  controlled  me. 
I  found  myself  searching  the  streets  for  one  like  it. 
Somewhere,  I  was  convinced,  the  real  man  must 
exist,  and  him  I  must  meet.    Why,  I  had  no  notion : 


LONDON  LAVENDER  215 

I  only  knew  that  he  and  I  were  in  some  way  linked 
by  fate.  I  frequented  places  where  men  congregate 
in  large  numbers — political  meetings,  football  matches, 
the  railway  stations  when  the  suburban  trains  pour 
forth  their  legions  on  the  City  in  the  morning,  and 
receive  them  again  in  the  evening.  But  all  in  vain. 
I  had  never  before  realized  as  I  then  did  how  many 
different  faces  of  man  there  are  and  how  few.  For 
all  differ,  and  yet,  classified,  they  belong  to  only  as 
many  groups  as  you  can  count  on  your  hands. 

"The  search  became  a  mania  with  me.  I  neglected 
everything  else.  I  stood  at  busy  corners  watching 
the  crowd  until  people  thought  me  crazy,  and  the 
police  began  to  know  me  and  be  suspicious.  Women 
I  never  glanced  at :  men,  men,  men,  all  the  time." 

He  passed  his  hand  wearily  over  his  brow.  "And 
then,"  he  continued,  "at  last  I  saw  him.  He  was  in 
a  taxi  driving  east  along  Piccadilly.  I  turned  and  ran 
beside  it  for  a  little  way  and  then  saw  an  empty  one 
coming.  'Follow  that  taxi,'  I  gasped,  and  leaped  in. 
The  driver  managed  to  keep  it  in  sight  and  it  took 
us  to  Charing  Cross.  I  rushed  on  to  the  platform 
and  found  my  man  with  two  ladies  and  a  little  girl. 
They  were  going  to  France  by  the  2.20.  I  hung 
about  to  try  and  get  a  word  with  him,  but  in  vain. 
Other  friends  had  joined  the  party,  and  they  moved 
to  the  train  in  a  solid  body. 

"I  hastily  purchased  a  ticket  to  Folkestone,  hoping 
that  I  should  catch  him  on  the  boat  before  it  sailed ; 
but  at  Folkestone  he  got  on  board  before  me  with 


2i 6  LONDON  LAVENDER 

his  friends,  and  they  disappeared  into  a  large  private 
saloon,  several  cabins  thrown  into  one.  Evidently 
he  was  a  man  of  wealth. 

"Again  I  was  foiled ;  but  I  determined  to~cross  too, 
feeling  certain  that  when  the  voyage  had  begun  he 
would  leave  the  ladies  and  come  out  for  a  stroll  on 
the  deck.  I  had  only  just  enough  for  the  single  fare 
to  Boulogne,  but  nothing  could  shake  me  now.  I 
took  up  my  position  opposite  the  saloon  door  and 
waited.  After  half  an  hour  the  door  opened  and  he 
came  out,  but  with  the  little  girl.  My  heart  beat  so 
that  it  seemed  to  shake  the  boat  more  than  the  pro- 
peller. There  was  no  mistaking  the  face  —  every 
line  was  the  same.  He  glanced  at  me  and  moved 
towards  the  companion-way  for  the  upper  deck.  It 
was  now  or  never,  I  felt. 

" 'Excuse  me/  I  stammered,  'but  do  you  mind 
giving  me  your  card  ?  I  have  a  very  important 
reason  for  wishing  to  communicate  with  you.' 

"He  seemed  to  be  astonished,  as  indeed  well  he 
might ;  but  he  complied.  With  extreme  deliberation 
he  took  out  his  case  and  handed  me  his  card  and 
hurried  on  with  the  little  girl.  It  was  clear  that 
he  thought  me  a  lunatic  and  considered  it  wiser  to 
humour  me  than  not. 

"Clutching  the  card  I  hurried  to  a  deserted  corner 
of  the  ship  and  read  it.  My  eyes  dimmed  ;  my  head 
swam ;  for  on  it  were  the  words  :  Mr.  Ormond  Wall, 
with  an  address^at  Pittsburg,  U.S.A.  I  remember 
no    more    until    I    found    myself    in    a    hospital    at 


j  LONDON  LAVENDER  217 

Boulogne.     There  I  lay  in  a  broken  condition  for 
some  weeks,  and  only  a  month  ago  did  I  return." 

He  was  silent. 

We  looked  at  him  and  at  one  another  and  wafted. 
All  the  other  talk  of  the  evening  was  nothing  com- 
pared with  the  story  of  the  little  pale  man. 

"I  went  back,"  he  resumed  after  a  moment  or  so, 
"to  Great  Ormond  Street  and  set  to  work  to  discover 
all  I  could  about  this  American  in  whose  life  I  had 
so  mysteriously  intervened.  I  wrote  to  Pittsburg ;  I 
wrote  to  American  editors ;  I  cultivated  the  society 
of  Americans  in  London ;  but  all  that  I  could  find 
out  was  that  he  was  a  millionaire  with  English 
parents  who  had  resided  in  London.  But  where? 
To  that  question  I  received  no  answer. 

"And  so  the  time  went  on  until  yesterday  morn- 
ing. I  had  gone  to  bed  more  than  usually  tired  and 
slept  till  late.  When  I  woke  the  sun  was  streaming 
in  the  room.  As  I  always  do,  I  looked  at  once  at 
the  wall  on  which  the  face  is  to  be  seen.  I  rubbed 
my  eyes  and  sprang  up  in  alarm.  It  was  only 
faintly  visible.  Last  night  it  had  been  as  clear  as 
ever  —  almost  I  could  hear  it  speak.  And  now  it 
was  but  a  ghost  of  itself. 

"I  got  up  dazed  and  dejected  and  went  out.  The 
early  editions  of  the  evening  papers  were  already  out, 
and  on  the  contents  bill  I  saw,  '  American  Millionaire's 
Motor  Accident.'  You  must  all  of  you  have  seen  it. 
I  bought  it  and  read  at  once  what  I  knew  I  should 
read.     Mr.  Ormond  Wall,  the  Pittsburg  millionaire 


2I8  LONDON  LAVENDER 

and  party,  motoring  from  Spezzia  to  Pisa,  had  come 
into  collision  with  a  wagon  and  were  overturned ;  Mr. 
Wall's  condition  was  critical. 

"I  went  back  to  my  room  still  dazed,  and  sat  on  the 
bed  looking  with  unseeing  eyes  at  the  face  on  the  wall. 
And  even  as  I  looked,  suddenly  it  completely  dis- 
appeared. 

"Later  I  found  that  Mr.  Wall  had  succumbed  to 
his  injuries  at  what  I  take  to  be  that  very  moment." 

Again  he  was  silent. 

"Most  remarkable,"  we  said;  "most  extraordi- 
nary," and  so  forth,  and  we  meant  it  too. 

"Yes,"  said  the  stranger.  "There  are  three  ex- 
traordinary, three  most  remarkable,  things  about 
my  story.  One  is  that  it  should  be  possible  for 
the  discoloration  in  a  lodging-house  in  London 
not  only  to  form  the  features  of  a  gentleman  in 
America,  but  to  have  this  intimate  association  with 
his  existence.  It  will  take  Science  some  time  to 
explain  that.  Another  is  that  that  gentleman's 
name  should  bear  any  relation  to  the  spot  on  which 
his  features  were  being  so  curiously  reproduced  by 
some  mysterious  agency.     Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

We  agreed  with  him,  and  our  original  discussion 
on  supernatural  manifestations  set  in  again  with 
increased  excitement,  during  which  the  narrator  of 
the  amazing  experience  rose  and  said  good-night. 
Just  as  he  was  at  the  door,  one  of  the  company  —  I 
rejoice  to  think  it  was  Spanton  —  recalled  us  to  the 
cause  of  our  excited  debate  by  asking  him,  before 


LONDON  LAVENDER  219 

he  left,  what  he  considered  the  third  extraordinary 
thing  in  connection  with  his  deeply  interesting 
story.  "You  said  three  things,  you  know,"  Spanton 
reminded  him. 

"Oh,  the  third  thing,"  he  said,  as  he  opened  the 
door,  "I  was  forgetting  that.  The  third  extraordinary 
thing  about  the  story  is  that  I  made  it  up  about  half 
an  hour  ago.     Good-night,  again." 

After  coming  to  our  senses  we  looked  round  for 
Rudson-Wayte,  who  had  brought  this  snake  to  bite 
our  bosoms,  but  he  too  had  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

IN  WHICH  WE  LOSE  A  FEW  CENTURIES  AND 
FIND  A  LIVING-PICTURE  BY  SIR  DAVID 
WILKIE 

THE  Director  in  his  search  for  primitive  English 
music  had  tidings  of  two  old  Morris  dancers  in 
an  Oxfordshire  village,  survivals  from  the  past  when 
the  whole  of  that  county  fostered  the  art,  and  he  took 
me  to  see  them.  Never  have  I  spent  a  more  curious 
evening. 

We  left  the  train  at  Bicester  late  on  a  golden  after- 
noon, and  were  driven  to  a  little  hamlet  a  few  miles 
distant  where  the  old  fellows  lived.  They  were 
brothers :  one  a  widower  of  seventy,  still  lissom, 
and  the  other  a  bachelor  of  sixty-seven,  bent  and 
stiff;  and  with  them  when  we  arrived  was  another 
elderly  man,  a  little  their  junior,  blowing  and  beating 
away  at  his  pipe  and  tabor  as  though  dear  life 
depended  upon  it. 

Unfamiliar  music  these  ancient  instruments  give 

forth,  and  I  defy  anyone  hearing  it  to  keep  his  feet 

still.     They  are  not  the  drum  and  fife  by  any  means, 

although  those  are  the  nearest  things  to  them  to-day, 

nor  are  they  like  the  old  magic  drum  and  pipes  of  the 

"Punch  and  Judy"  man  (never  to  be  heard  again, 

220 


LONDON  LAVENDER  221 

alas,  with  a  beating  heart) ;  but  something  between 
the  two,  with  a  suggestion  of  rollick  or  even  madness 
added.  I  heard  the  sounds  while  we  were  still  ap- 
proaching the  cottage  and  had  no  notion  what  they 
were;  and  the  strangeness  of  their  melody  was 
increased  by  the  player's  total  disregard  of  our  entry, 
although  it  was  a  tune  that  might  have  ended  any- 
where. The  pipe  and  tabor  have  now  passed  into 
the  limbo  of  musical  archaisms,  but  it  was  absurd  to 
allow  them  to  do  so.  There  are  certain  effects  on 
the  stage  that  no  other  instruments  could  so  well 
achieve,  and  their  invitation  to  the  dance  is  in  a 
simpler  way  not  less  commanding  than  Weber's. 

The  old  fellow  played  both  instruments  simul- 
taneously; his  left  hand  at  once  fingering  the  three 
holes  of  the  pipe  and  supporting  the  string  to  which 
the  tabor  was  suspended,  while  his  right  held  the 
little  stick  with  which  he  unceasingly  beat  it.  For 
the  twain  are  never  separated. 

Upon  his  stopping  at  last  —  and  I  for  one  could 
have  heard  him,  uninterfering,  for  hours  —  we  had  a 
little  talk  as  to  his  repertory  and  so  forth,  until, 
having  changed  their  boots,  the  venerable  capering 
brethren  were  ready.  The  elder  one,  Eli,  was  bright 
of  eye  and  still  very  light  on  his  feet ;  but  the  younger, 
Jack,  creaked  a  little.  Eli  had  a  gentle  smile  ever 
on  his  curved  lips,  and  as  he  danced  his  eyes  looked 
into  the  past ;  Jack  kept  a  fixed  unseeing  gaze  on 
the  musician.  Together,  or  alone,  they  went  through 
several   of   the   old  favourites  —  "Shepherds,  Hey," 


222  LONDON  LAVENDER 

"Maid  of  the  Mill,"  "Old  Mother  Oxford,"  "Step 
back,"  "Lumps  of  Plum-pudding,"  "  Green  Garters  " — 
and  it  was  strange  to  sit  in  that  little,  flagged  Oxford- 
shire kitchen,  with  its  low  ceiling  and  smoky  walls, 
and  watch  these  simple  movements  and  hear  those 
old  tunes.  More  than  strange ;  for  as  they  continued, 
and  the  pipe  and  tabor  continued,  I  became  conscious 
of  a  new  feeling.  For  the  Morris  dance  is  like  noth- 
ing else.  It  is  as  different  from  the  old  English  dance 
as  that  is  different  from  the  steps  of  the  corps  de 
ballet.  It  is  the  simplest  thing  there  is,  the  most 
naive.  Or,  if  you  are  in  that  mood,  it  is  the  most 
stupid;  jigging  rather  than  dancing,  and  very 
monotonous.  But  after  a  little  while  it  begins  to 
cast  its  spell,  in  which  monotony  plays  no  small  part, 
and  one  comes  in  time  to  hope  that  nothing  will  ever 
happen  to  interrupt  it  and  force  one  back  into  real 
life  again. 

The  feeling  became  positively  uncanny  when  old 
Jack,  the  bent  one,  jigging  alone,  still  with  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  musician,  but  seeing  nothing  nearer  than 
1870,  began  to  touch  his  body  here  and  there  in  the 
course  of  the  movements  of  the  dance,  every  touch 
having  a  profound  mystical  meaning,  of  which  he 
knew  nothing,  that  probably  dated  from  remotest 
times,  when  these  very  steps  were  part  of  a  religious 
or  ecstatic  celebration  of  fecundity.  Odd  sight  for  a 
party  of  twentieth  century  dilettanti  in  an  Oxfordshire 
kitchen  ! 

The  occasion  was  not  only  curious  but  pathetic  too ; 


LONDON  LAVENDER  223 

one  saw  after  a  while  not  these  dancers,  so  old  and 
past  the  joy  of  life,  but  the  dancers  as  once  they 
were,  when,  forty  years  ago,  they  would  set  out  in 
a  team  every  Whitsuntide,  six  in  all,  to  dance  the 
Morris  in  other  villages,  and  sleep  in  a  barn  all  so 
jolly,  and  drink  the  good  ale  provided  by  the  farmers, 
and  each  strive  to  be  the  most  agile  and  untiring  for 
the  sake  of  a  pair  of  pretty  Oxfordshire  eyes. 

Forty  years  ago  ! 

Asked  if  there  were  any  others  who  still  re- 
membered the  steps,  they  said  no.  "We  be  the 
last,  us  be,"  said  Eli,  in  his  soft,  melancholy  voice. 
"All  the  others  be  dead." 

The  brothers  described,  each  fortifying  the  other 
and  helped  by  the  promptings  and  leading  questions 
of  the  Director,  the  ritual  of  the  Morris  as  they 
remembered  it.  A  lamb  would  be  led  about  by  a 
shepherd,  and  behind  this  lamb  they  danced.  At 
night  the  lamb  was  killed  and  the  joints  distributed. 
Most  was  eaten,  but  portions  were  buried  in  the 
fields.  Why,  the  old  men  had  no  notion;  they  had 
never  heard.  But  the  Director  knew,  although  he 
did  not  explain. 

For  upwards  of  an  hour  these  energetic  enthusiasts 
continued  to  dance,  sometimes  without  a  hitch,  and 
then  again  with  hesitations  and  arguments  as  to  the 
next  step  or  movement.  What  thoughts  were  theirs,  I 
wondered.  Since  he  had  last  danced  Eli  had  married, 
had  had  children,  had  seen  his  children  grow  up  and 
his  wife  die.     Yet  I  am  certain  that  as  he  skipped 


224  LONDON  LAVENDER 

and  capered  on  those  flagstones  in  the  cottage  where 
he  was  born,  his  personality  was  that  rather  of  a 
young  man  than  an  old.  And  then  the  music  stopped 
and  he  ceased  to  wave  his  handkerchief  and  spring 
from  foot  to  foot,  and  he  sank  into  a  chair  and  the 
light  left  his  face  and  wistful  old  age  settled  over  it 
again. 

I  congratulated  him  on  his  sprightliness,  and  again 
asked  his  age,  to  make  sure. 

"Seventy,"  he  said.  "I  shall  be  seventy-one  in 
July  if  I  live.     If  I  live,"  he  added,  after  a  while. 

"Of  course  you'll  live,"  I  said.  "You're  good  for 
many  years  yet  and  many  more  dances." 

He  shook  his  head. 

That  he  thinks  of  his  end  a  good  deal,  I  am  sure ; 
but  never  morbidly,  or  with  any  affectation  of  sad- 
ness, but  with  the  peasant's  quiet  acceptance  of  the 
fact.  All  his  life  he  has  been  a  tiller  of  the  soil: 
the  same  soil,  year  after  year,  turning  it  afresh, 
sowing  it  afresh,  gathering  the  harvest  afresh,  and 
then  beginning  all  over  again  —  the  best  school  for 
patience  and  acceptivity. 

And  so,  after  some  ale  had  been  brought,  we  said 
good-night  and  drove  away,  for  Oxford  and  London 
again,  or,  in  other  words,  for  the  twentieth  century. 


CHAPTER  XXLX 

IN  WHICH  NAOMI  COMMUNICATES  A  TREMEN- 
DOUS PIECE  OF  NEWS,  AND  "  PLACIDA " 
FIGHTS    IT    OUT    WITH     "LAVENDER"    AND 

LOSES 

NAOMI  was  very  quiet  at  breakfast  and,  I 
thought,  very  beautiful.  She  startled  me,  after- 
wards, as  I  stood  at  the  window,  watching  the  rain, 
by  asking  quietly,  "Which  would  you  like,  Kent, 
dear,  a  girl  or  a  boy?" 

I  had  a  moment's  giddiness,  but  did  not  show  it. 

"I  almost  said  'Both,'"  I  replied. 

"I  shouldn't  mind,"  she  said.  "But  in  case  I 
disappoint  you  to  that  extent,  which  do  you  prefer?" 

"I  would  like  it  to  be  what  you  want,"  I  said. 
"But  little  girls  are  rather  nice,  and  biggish  girls  are 
rather  nice,  and  a  daughter  to  walk  about  with  when 
one  is  white-haired  —  but  erect,  of  course  —  is  some- 
thing to  look  forward  to.     But  you?" 

"Oh  yes,"  said  Naomi,  "I  would  like  a  girl." 

"Then  let  it  be  a  girl,"  I  replied. 

How  differently  things  happen  in  novels  and  in 
life.  Had  I  been  a  husband  in  a  novel  or  a  play 
I  should  have  been  thunderstruck  that  anything  of 

Q  225 


226  LONDON  LAVENDER 

this  kind  could  possibly  be  happening;  while  my 
poor  wife  would  have  crimsoned  and  hid  her  face  on 
my  shoulder.  As  it  was,  we  both  laughed  a  little  and  I 
stroked  her  pretty  head;  and  then  she  sat  down  to 
add  up  some  accounts  and  I  went  to  the  Zoo.  But 
underneath  we  were  as  conscious  of  the  epoch-making 
moment  as  any  of  the  husbands  in  the  novels  who, 
try  as  they  may,  cannot  succeed  in  anticipating  these 
somewhat  trite  events. 

A  few  days  later  we  began  seriously  to  consider 
the  question  of  names.  I  found  on  a  bookstall  a 
little  pocket  encyclopaedia  which  gave  two  of  its 
precious  pages  to  columns  and  columns  of  girls' 
names  in  small  print,  in  alphabetical  order.  Some  of 
these  names  I  will  admit  were  outside  the  domain  of 
practical  politics.  Jezebel,  for  example.  No  child 
of  mine  shall  ever  be  called  Jezebel,  nor  do  I  care 
much  for  Judith;  although  Judy  I  think  pretty. 
But  Naomi  would  have  a  boy  rather  than  call  her 
daughter  Judy.  Privately  I  may  say  that  I  believe 
that  Naomi  wants  a  boy;  I  believe  that  all  women 
would  like  their  babies  to  be  sons.  But  she  pretends 
that  her  wishes  coincide  with  mine,  and,  after  all,  a 
girl  is  the  next  thing  to  a  boy. 

Beginning  at  the  wrong  end,  our  first  duty  was  to 
examine  the  claims  of  Zoe,  but  that  did  not  take 
long.  No  child  of  ours,  we  decided,  should  have  a 
name  that  carried  a  diaeresis  with  it.  That  is  an 
axiom.     Zoe  therefore  went. 

"Zena?"  I  said. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  227 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  Naomi. 

The  only  Y's  were  Yseult  and  Yvonne,  but  these 
were  useless,  as  we  intend  never  to  live  in  Kensington. 
Winifred  we  also  dismissed  and  Wilhelmina. 

"How  about  Victoria?"  I  said. 

But  Naomi  remained  firm. 

I  dwelt  fondly  on  Virginia.  Miss  Virginia  Falconer 
sounds  distinguished. 

Naomi,  however,  was  against  it. 

I  like  Veronica  too,  but  not  so  well  as  Virginia. 
The  other  V's  were  negligible  —  Vashti  and  Vesta; 
but  I  affected  to  put  in  a  plea  for  Volumnia. 

"I  could  never  nurse  a  Volumnia,"  said  Naomi. 
"It  is  so  immense.     It  also  sounds  like  a  steamer." 

"Still,"  I  said,  "there  ought  to  be  a  Volumnia 
Falconer,  just  to  cheer  up  the  birth  announcements 
in  the  Times.  Think  of  the  double  portions  of 
samples  that  you  would  receive !  To  call  a  child 
Volumnia  is  as  useful  as  having  twins." 

"I  don't  like  it ;  but  if  you  really  want  the  samples 
you  could  call  the  child  Volumnia  in  the  Times  and 
then  change  the  name.  A  Times  announcement  is 
not  binding,"  were  Naomi's  astonishing  words :  her 
first  appearance  as  a  profound  strategist ! 

"If  you  talk  like  that,"  I  said,  "and  the  child  takes 
after  you,  we  had  better  call  her  Portia  at  once,  or 
Christabel." 

And  so  we  explored  the  alphabet,  rejecting  name 
after  name  for  the  most  curious  reasons.  This  one 
because  Naomi  was  at  school  with  a  girl  named  like 


228  LONDON  LAVENDER 

that  whom  she  did  not  like ;  that  one  because  some 
public  bete  noire  had  it ;  a  third  because  it  was  too 
Jewish;  another  because  it  was  too  scriptural,  and 
Naomi  had  herself  suffered  for  that ;  a  fifth  because  it 
would  not  go  with  Falconer ;  and  many  because  they 
smacked  of  the  stage. 

In  the  end  we  found  ourselves  with  two  names 
about  as  different  as  they  could  be,  over  the  merits 
of  which  we  were  obliged  to  fight.  These  were 
Placida  and  Lavender.  Lavender  was  Naomi's 
choice ;   Placida  was  mine. 

"Placida  is  charming,"  Naomi  said,  "but  if  names, 
as  they  say,  have  an  influence  on  character,  won't  she 
be  a  little  too  quiet?" 

"Can  she  be?"  I  replied. 

"Well,  it  would  be  dreadful  if  it  meant  loss  of 
spirit.     Meekness  is  so  unattractive." 

"She'd  inherit  the  earth,"  I  said. 

"Oh  no,"  exclaimed  Naomi,  "don't  let  her  do 
that !  I  would  like  Placida,"  Naomi  went  on,  "if  it 
could  dominate  her  character  only  in  her  very  early 
days." 

"And  nights,"  I  added  hastily. 

"Yes,  and  nights.  But  after  that?  Should  a 
name  be  so  descriptive?  Suppose  she  became  a 
terrible  romp?" 

"I  hope  so,"  I  said.  "Then  there  will  be  piquancy 
of  contrast  added,  and  she  will  be  the  more  likely  to 
attract  the  millionaire  whom  all  good  fathers  hope  to 
descry  on  the  horizon." 


LONDON  LAVENDER  229 

"Don't  be  foolish,"  said  Naomi.  "You  will  be 
furious  when  she  falls  in  love,  and  unbearable  when 
she  is  engaged." 

"Very  well,  then,"  I  said;  "Lavender.  But  we 
can't  call  her  Lavender.  It's  too  artificial.  Its 
special  charm  is  that  it's  such  a  beautiful  word.  We 
can  think  of  her  as  Lavender,  but  call  her  something 
else.     What  shall  that  be  ?  " 

"Nan,"  said  Naomi,  by  an  inspiration;  and  so  it 
was  settled. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

IN  WHICH  WE  JOURNEY  TO  THE  NORTH  BY  NE- 
FARIOUS MEANS,  AND  NAOMI  AND  I  STUMBLE 
UPON  A  PRECISELY  SIMILAR  FEELING 

NAOMI'S  old  school  friendship  with  Mrs. 
Farrar,  who  is  the  daughter  of  the  Rector  of 
Winfield,  is  ripening  into  a  new  intimacy,  into  which 
I  am  being  drawn.  Not  unwillingly ;  for  although 
she  is  rather  a  slangy,  frivolous  young  woman,  she 
is  very  fresh  and  impulsive  and  genuine,  and  I  have 
long  given  up  that  wish  (with  which  most  of  us  begin 
life)  that  every  candidate  for  friendship  should  con- 
form to  one's  own  standards. 

Farrar,  I  confess,  is  not  exciting ;  but  it  is  not 
unamusing  to  watch  the  mental  and  physical  pro- 
cesses of  a  young  man  who  has  been  brought  up 
never  to  know  the  meaning  of  hunger  or  thirst, 
except  as  the  prelude  to  their  agreeable  gratification, 
or  to  do  a  day's  work  beyond  fiddling  with  a  defective 
motor-engine,  or  walking  miles  in  pursuit  of  a  rubber- 
cored  ball.  He  is  not  offensively  selfish  in  his 
idleness,  and  has  a  ready  hand  for  subscription- 
hunters.     In  fact,  he  is  really  very  generous,  although, 

230 


LONDON  LAVENDER  231 

of  course,  not  thoughtful  enough.  He  distributes 
the  kind  of  presents,  for  example,  that  cause  servants 
to  give  notice :  silver  chafing-dishes,  patent  foot 
warmers  —  things  like  that.  Generosity,  however, 
is  far  from  being  all,  and  indeed  it  may  be  and  often 
is  merely  the  selfish  man's  device  to  be  spared  worry. 
It  could  not  save  Farrar  from  Spanton,  who  would 
say  that  the  Farrar  lily  cannot  long  continue  to  toil 
not,  neither  to  spin,  in  a  community  such  as  ours. 
Times  are  changing;  and  though  I  doubtless  shall 
see  little  of  the  social  revolution,  for  things  move 
slowly  in  England,  it  will  come. 

Something,  of  course,  must  be  done  to  make  these 
young  people  responsible;  for  nothing  does  it  now. 
They  are  anti-social  to  the  roots,  if  they  only  knew 
it.  Their  one  desire  is  to  enjoy  themselves,  which 
they  do  in  a  curious  monotonous  way  that  to  the  or- 
dinary domesticated  observer  seems  to  be  singularly 
like  discomfort.  Their  first  essential  for  enjoyment 
is  to  get  away  from  home  as  much  as  possible,  and 
to  reduce  to  a  minimum  the  responsibility  of  home. 
There  are  therefore  no  children,  although  there  is 
youth,  vigour,  and  wealth.  Some  day  they  may  settle 
down  and  have  perhaps  two,  but  preferably  one ;  but 
not  yet.  To-day  they  are  too  keen  on  moving  about, 
and  Gwendolen  is  too  keen  on  doing  everything  that 
Farrar  does.  She  is,  in  short,  a  good  fellow ;  and 
these  female  good  fellows  are  becoming  a  danger  to 
the  State. 

After  much  mild  opposition  on  my  part,  we  con- 


232 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


sented  to  join  the  Farrars  in  a  motor  trip  to  Winfield. 
I  did  not  want  to  go,  for  several  reasons.  I  like  my 
hearth ;  I  like  my  habits ;  I  dislike  motor-cars ;  I 
dislike  strange  inn  beds.  I  was  not  prepared  for 
four  or  five  days'  racing  through  this  green  England 
in  company  so  limited  in  imagination.  But  when 
I  found  that  Farrar  and  his  wife  always  sat  in  front, 
I  relented  a  little,  for  it  would  mean  that  Naomi 
and  I  had  the  inside  wholly  to  ourselves.  I  hazarded 
the  stipulation  that  we  should  make  it  a  rule  on 
desirable  occasions  to  offer  lifts  on  the  road ;  but 
Farrar  asked  me  not  to  press  it.  It  would  not  work, 
he  said.  And  I  now  agree  with  him,  for,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  you  can't  do  things  like  that  in  a  motor. 
Motors  refuse  to  stop  quickly  enough.  There  can 
be  only  one  mind  in  a  motor,  and  that  is  the  driver's, 
and  the  driver's  is  stunned  or  dulled  by  his  office. 
Hence,  just  as  one  always  overshoots  the  prettiest 
cottages  and  gardens  and  the  most  beautiful  by- 
roads, so  one  has  long  passed  the  unhappy  footsore 
pedestrian  before  the  impulse  to  pick  him  up  can 
be  communicated  to  the  man  at  the  wheel ;  and  of 
course  in  a  motor  there  is  no  going  back. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  did  chance  to  assist  one 
man  in  this  way,  but  he  came  up  to  us  when  we 
were  stopping  for  a  sandwich  on  the  roadside.  That 
is  to  say,  he  overtook  us  and  caught  us  off  our 
guard :  a  tall  lean  man  with  a  stubble  on  his  chin 
and  an  air  still  slightly  rakish  in  spite  of  travel- 
stains  and  weariness.    He  asked  how  far  it  was  to 


LONDON  LAVENDER  233 

Birmingham,  and  told  us  that  he  was  an  actor  and  had 
heard  of  a  travelling  company  with  whom,  before  a 
long  illness,  he  had  been  associated,  and  he  was  walk- 
ing to  Birmingham  hoping  it  might  find  room  for  him. 

Gwendolen  came  inside  and  the  histrion  (as  I  am 
sure  he  would  love  best  to  be  called)  rode  beside 
Farrar  in  silence.  But  when  he  said  good-bye  he 
wrung  my  hand  under  the  impression  that  I  was 
the  owner  of  the  car,  and  drew  me  aside  to  mention 
the  fact  that  the  loan  of  half  a  crown  for  two  days 
would  be  an  incalculable  boon.  Poor  fellow,  he 
looked  so  fragile  and  empty  that  I  made  the  sum 
a  good  deal  larger,  and  pressed  him  not  to  be  so 
hasty  in  returning  it;  and  he  promised  he  would 
not. 

"I  could  wish  sometimes,"  he  said  brokenly,  with 
his  hat  in  his  hand,  as  we  parted,  "that  the  Great 
Prompter  would  ring  down  the  curtain  I" 

"Hullo!"  said  Farrar,  as  I  rejoined  them,  "been 
biting  your  ear,  eh?  That's  what  always  comes  of 
this  lift  business.     How  much  did  he  bite  it  for?" 

"Only  half  a  crown,"  I  said,  and  spent  the  next 
hour  wondering  why  it  is  that  one  is  so  terrified  of 
letting  a  man  of  the  world  think  one  a  human  being. 

We  reached  Winfield  for  lunch  in  Canon  Frome's 
hospitable  rectory,  and  at  tea-time  strolled  over  to 
see  some  friends  of  the  Fromes  named  Harberton, 
who  live  in  a  very  charming  house  amid  a  thick 
shrubbery:  one  of  those  secure  and  serene  houses 
that  are  found  only  in  England,  a  perfect  backwater 


234 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


in  the  stream  of  industry  and  ambition.  Harberton 
is  a  man  of  about  my  own  age,  a  dilettante  with 
literary  tastes  and  some  reputation  as  the  editor  of 
Boswell.  His  wife  is  much  younger  —  a  beautiful 
woman  with  very  quick  sympathies  and  under- 
standing. Not  particularly  clever  herself,  but  stimu- 
lating others  to  their  best.  She  has  three  children, 
all  girls,  and  when  we  arrived  the  whole  family  was 
under  a  cedar  about  a  tea-table.  Some  white  pigeons 
fluttered  on  the  roof  and  a  spaniel  regained  its  feet 
with  extreme  deliberateness  and  walked  slowly  to 
meet  and  investigate  us.  The  lawn  was  like  velvet: 
too  soft  for  any  game. 

Looking  at  it  all  I  could  not  help  wondering  how 
my  young  friend  Spanton  would  snort  at  it.  Nothing 
but  leisure  and  culture  here,  he  would  say.  No 
progress.  Dead  languages,  belles-lettres.  Everything 
that  is  retrograde. 

And  yet  surely  there  must  be,  even  in  a  new 
England  of  intense  socialistic  activity,  some  oases 
such  as  this,  where  ancient  peace  reigns  and  children 
are  being  thoughtfully  brought  up  to  be  old-fashioned 
—  as  I  am  sure  these  three  little  girls  will  be.  Let 
there  be  here  and  there  tiny  spots  of  ointment 
among  the  flies  ! 

Mrs.  Harberton  is  all  right,  of  course :  she  is  a 
mother,  and  an  influence;  but  as  to  how  far  it 
would  be  possible  to  defend  Harberton  against  the 
Spantons  I  cannot  say.  His  class  doubtless  will  be 
put  upon  its  trial  before  long,  just  as  the  Farrars 


LONDON  LAVENDER  235 

will.  You  may  be  very  charming  and  distinguished 
and  all  that,  the  Spantons  will  say,  but  what  are 
you  doing  for  your  country  and  your  kind  ?  You 
are  living  on  dividends  earned  by  other  people's 
labour.  That  has  got  to  stop.  You  have  got  to 
disgorge  and  labour  yourself.  What  will  you  do  ? 
What  could  Harberton  do  ?     What  could  I  do  ? 

It  is  funny  that  I  should  thus  bracket  myself  with 
Harberton,  for  that  night  Naomi  told  me  that  he 
reminded  her  not  a  little  of  me. 

"That's  odd,"  I  said,  "for  Mrs.  Harberton  reminds 
me  rather  of  you." 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

IN  WHICH  WE  MEET  A  WARDEN  AND  HER 
CHARGES,  AND  HEAR  TWO  OR  THREE  STORIES 
OF  STORMY  VOYAGES  ON  LIFE'S  WATERS 
BEFORE  HAVEN  WAS  REACHED 

TWO  pretty  maids  having  arrived,  one  to  take 
away  the  tea  and  the  other  to  be  with  the 
little  girls,  Mr.  Harberton  suggested  that  we  should 
go  and  see  the  Warden.  This  he  said  with  a  slight 
smile  that  made  the  invitation  very  pleasant,  and  I 
joined  Mrs.  Harberton  with  thoughts  of  Trollope 
in  my  head  and  visions  of  the  white-haired  president 
of  a  college.  Judge,  then,  of  my  surprise  when  a 
little  shy  woman  met  us  not  far  from  the  gate  and 
we  were  introduced  to  Miss  Mitt,  the  Warden  of 
the  Pink  Almshouses.  Again  I  anticipated  wrongly, 
for  instead  of  the  rose-tinted  building  which  these 
words  led  me  to  expect,  I  found  a  very  beautiful 
edifice  in  grey  stone  with  a  long,  warmly-tiled  roof, 
the  founder  of  which  was  a  Mrs.  Pink,  a  friend  of 
Mrs.  Harberton. 

There  are  beautiful  almshouses  all  over  England, 
and  someone  ought  to  write  a  book  describing  them, 
especially  as  almshouse  architecture    is  almost  the 

236 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


237 


best  indigenous  domestic  architecture  that  we  have. 
Such  temptations  as  beset  modern  architects  when 
they  build  private  houses  seem  for  the  most  part  to 
be  absent  when  they  build  almshouses.  Another 
triumph  for  humility,  perhaps.  For  the  time  being 
even  the  most  ambitious  designer,  remembering  the 
purpose  of  the  building,  is  forced  to  be  simple. 

The  most  amusing  almshouse  I  know  is  at  Chiches- 
ter, where,  under  one  great  dark  red  roof  with  pretty 
dormers  in  it,  dwell  several  old  ladies,  each  in  her 
own  apartments,  like  an  undergraduate  or  a  nun, 
with  a  nurse  at  one  end  of  the  central  passage  and 
a  chapel  at  the  other.  But  I  like  the  more  usual 
plan  better  —  the  row  of  tiny  domiciles  like  a  terrace 
for  fairy  godmothers,  the  little  gardens,  the  muslin 
blinds,  and  all  the  evidences  of  security.  Such  a 
building  was  that  which  a  young  architect  in  a  soft 
flannel  collar  (as  I  guess)  had  put  up  for  Mrs. 
Harberton  with  Mrs.  Pink's  legacy. 

Mrs.  Pink's  almshouses  are  all  that  she  would  have 
desired :  a  long,  low  facade  with  two  wings  at  right 
angles  and  a  flagged  garden  in  the  intervening  space. 
Quite  a  suggestion  of  "The  Harbour  of  Refuge,"  but 
no  harm  in  that.  By  using  old  materials  the  architect 
had  prevented  any  appearance  of  crudity,  and  creepers 
were  already  high  on  the  walls.  There  are  thirteen 
little  houses  under  this  long  roof,  three  in  each  wing 
and  seven  in  the  main  building,  of  which  the  Warden's 
house  is  the  middle  one.  The  twelve  old  women  have 
to  be  either  spinsters  or  widows  and  to  be  fifty-five 


23 8  LONDON  LAVENDER 

or  over,  and  it  makes  not  the  faintest  difference 
whether  or  not  they  have  ever  been  in  receipt  of 
parish  relief.  Each  has  ten  shillings  a  week,  light, 
and  coal.  On  this  allowance  they  find  their  own 
meals  and  dress ;  but  in  both  respects  they  are  often 
a  little  helped  out  by  other  friends  or  their  own 
relations. 

That  anyone  meeting  Miss  Mitt,  in  London,  say, 
would  guess  her  to  be  the  Warden  of  twelve  per- 
nickety old  women,  is  unlikely ;  and  this  not  because 
London  seldom  or  never  estimates  provincials  at  their 
true  worth,  but  because  she  was  so  small  and  un- 
obtrusive. But  in  her  own  abode  of  authority  there 
was  no  doubt,  for,  though  still  small  and  unobtrusive, 
she  wore  there,  on  her  brow,  the  sign  manual  of 
responsibility  and  control.  I  had  a  long  talk  with 
her  about  her  duties  and  difficulties. 

"I  love  the  work,"  she  said,  "but  it's  not  too  easy. 
I'm  not  complaining,  you  know.  I  don't  think  things 
ought  to  be  easy." 

"Why  ever  not?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  "but  I've  always  had 
that  feeling  ever  since  I  was  a  child." 

Of  course  she  had,  poor  little  Nonconformist,  or, 
shall  I  say,  poor  little  Anglo-Saxon? 

"Lotus-eating  would  give  you  a  terrible  stomach- 
ache," I  said,  "wouldn't  it?" 

And  the  plucky  little  creature  had  the  hardihood 
to  reply,  "I  hope  so." 

What   can   you   do   with   people   like   this?   and 


LONDON  LAVENDER  239 

England  is  full  of  them.  Suspicion  of  happiness  is 
in  our  blood. 

"Tell  me  about  the  old  pests,"  I  said. 

"Oh  no,  Mr.  Falconer,"  she  replied,  "they're  not 
old  pests.  They're  dears.  Only  now  and  then,  as 
old  people  will,  they  have  troublesome  ways.  I  really 
believe  that  the  worst  of  all  is  jealousy.  It  makes  it 
so  difficult  for  me  to  be  quite  open,  and  I  hate  not  to 
be.  If  I  show  a  little  more  attention  to  one  than 
another  I'm  sure  to  hear  about  it  or  notice  the  effects 
of  it." 

"Ah,  jealousy  !"  I  said.  "That's  the  real  blot  on 
mankind.  You  know  the  origin  of  it,  of  course. 
The  good  God  first  made  man,  and  then,  as  you 
remember,  He  extracted  woman  from  man's  side.  He 
was  so  much  occupied  in  gazing  at  this  new  work  of 
His  hand,  so  suddenly  thought  of  and  created,  that 
He  forgot  that  the  aperture  was  not  closed,  and  before 
He  could  close  it  a  little  poisonous  reptile  had  crept 
in.  It  has  been  there  ever  since,  and  no  human 
blood  is  free  from  it.  Look  how  much  of  it  Cain  at 
once  inherited  !" 

"Oh  dear,  how  terrible!"  said  Miss  Mitt.  "And 
is  that  really  true?"  and  she  clicked  her  tongue. 
"Well,  there's  plenty  of  it  here.  I  can  do  with  their 
ordinary  tantrums  and  their  ailments  and  their 
grumblings :  but  it  is  so  hard  to  have  to  keep  away 
from  the  nicer  ones  because  the  others  can't  bear  it, 
and  to  have  to  do  things  surreptitiously." 

I  asked  her  which  were  the  worse,  the  single  or 


240 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


the  married  women.  She  was  forced  to  give  the 
palm  to  the  single.  "I  suppose,"  she  said,  "it's  be- 
cause the  married  ones  have  been  married  and  are 
therefore  —  therefore "      Here  she  was  at  a  loss. 

I  helped  her  out.  "  — are  therefore,"  I  said,  "more 
inured  to  trouble  and  vexations." 

"Yes,"  Miss  Mitt  agreed,  "if  you  don't  mind  my 
thinking  so." 

"Men  are  a  nuisance,  aren't  they?"  I  said. 

"  Oh  dear,  I  didn't  mean  exactly  that.  Not  exactly," 
said  the  little  Warden.  "What  I  meant  was  that 
married  women  understand  give-and-take  better  than 
the  others  who  have  lived  alone.  But  you  mustn't 
think  that  all  the  single  ones  are  cross,  or  all  the 
widows  are  always  good  tempered.  It  isn't  so.  This 
one,  for  example"  —  and  she  knocked  at  a  door  —  "is 
the  sweetest  spinster  you  could  wish  to  meet.  Her 
name  is  Selina  Still.     Isn't  that  pretty  ?  " 

Miss  Still  let  us  in  —  a  little  grey  woman.  Her 
room  was  a  marvel  of  radiant  precision.  "Mr. 
Falconer  has  come  from  London  all  the  way  in  a 
motor-car,"  said  Miss  Mitt. 

"It's  very  wonderful,"  said  the  little  grey  woman. 
"But  I  should  be  frightened  to  go  in  one;"  and 
indeed,  how  could  a  Selina  Still  be  in  a  motor-car  ?  It 
would  be  a  sin  against  Nature. 

The  others  now  joined  us,  and  Farrar  laughed  at  the 
notion  of  fear.     "  What  about  flying,  then  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Oh,"  said  Miss  Still  very  solemnly,  "  I  think  this 
flying's  dreadful,  and  I  don't  believe  it's  going  to  last. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  241 

For  I  can't  help  feeling  there's  One  above  Who  won't 
much  longer  brook  those  things  getting  so  near  Him." 

Miss  Still  expressed  a  wish  to  see  London  again, 
but  did  not  expect  to.  She  was  last  there  in  i860, 
when  she  was  a  lady's  maid.  Her  two  most  prized 
recollections  were  the  Crystal  Palace  and  Spurgeon's 
preaching. 

Next  to  Selina  Still  lived  Gipsy  Woods,  who  must 
in  her  long-ago  youth  have  been  a  beauty.  Her 
mother  had  named  her  Gipsy  for  her  black  eyes. 
She  was  now  nearing  eighty,  and  was  very  rheumatic. 
She  had  married  a  gentleman  —  that  is  to  say,  one 
who  would  walk  about  as  if  he  had  money  in  his 
pockets  and  do  no  work,  while  she  was  toiling  day 
and  night  bringing  up  eleven  children.  For  her 
belief  was  that  so  long  as  you  kept  a  roof  over  your 
head  nothing  else  matters,  and  that  is  what  she  always 
told  the  children.  She  had  twins  when  she  was  fifty- 
one,  and  brought  them  up  too  !  Her  husband  dis- 
appeared, and  most  of  the  children  dropped  away,  and 
a  few  years  ago  she  had  to  go  into  hospital  because 
her  legs  were  so  bad ;  and  when  she  came  out  the 
people  in  the  house  where  she  had  a  room  had 
vanished  with  all  her  few  things,  and  had  it  not  been 
for  these  almshouses  she  would  be  in  the  union. 

Quite  a  typical  story,  this,  not  only  as  illustrating 
the  wife's  dogged  courage  and  the  husband's  unthrift, 
but  also  the  uselessness  of  so  many  children.  It 
would  seem  indeed  to  be  the  exception  rather  than 
the  rule  to  find  sons  and  daughters  of  the  poor  grow- 


242  LONDON  LAVENDER 

ing  up  to  help  their  parents,  poverty  being  so  hard  put 
to  it  to  provide  any  spring-board  from  which  to  take 
off  for  a  better  position. 

Apropos  of  twins,  another  of  the  old  ladies  who 
was  not  otherwise  interesting,  a  mournful  body  in 
black,  with  pink  cotton  wool  in  her  ears  which  gave 
her  head  the  appearance,  seen  hurriedly,  of  being 
hollow,  boasted  of  having  had  "two  couple  of  twins 
twice."  This  works  out,  if  we  are  exact  in  the  use  of 
the  word  twin,  to  eight  at  a  birth  or  sixteen  in  all.  But 
she  meant  only  that  she  had  had  four  altogether.  I 
congratulated  her  on  her  achievement,  but  she  was 
apathetic  about  it.  "Mrs.  Nottidge,"  she  said,  "the 
wife  of  the  landlord  of  the  'Jolly  Bricklayers,'  had 
triplets  and  got  the  Queen's  bounty."  The  heroine 
of  the  twins,  the  Warden  told  us,  liked  to  keep  a 
bottle  of  gin,  which  was  always  referred  to  tactfully 
as  medicine.  It  was  supplied  to  her  by  a  neighbour- 
ing lady  who  once  sent  a  pound  of  tea  in  the  same 
basket,  and  the  gin  bottle  breaking,  the  tea  was 
saturated.  An  ordinary  person  would  merely  have 
deplored  a  loss  ;  but  this  recipient  was  more  resource- 
ful. She  dried  the  tea  in  the  oven  and  found  it  vastly 
improved  for  its  drenching.  That  old  women  like  a 
drop  of  something  strong  in  the  teacup,  we  all  know ; 
but  here  is  possibly  an  idea  for  the  tea  trade  which 
might  enormously  increase  its  profits.  When  con- 
suming her  gin  in  a  more  normal  manner,  Miss  Mitt 
told  us,  the  old  lady  always  stirred  it  with  a  sprig  of 
rue.     It  made  it  "healthier." 


LONDON  LAVENDER  243 

At  No.  8  was  Martha  Drax.  Mrs.  Drax  was  now 
nearing  seventy,  and  all  the  time  that  she  could  spare 
from  her  household  duties  she  devoted  to  meditating 
upon  a  letter  to  the  King.  Not  that  she  was  exactly 
mad  —  although  this  occupation  might  suggest  it  — 
but  a  little  enfeebled  in  intellect,  as  indeed  all  poor  old 
women  have  every  right  to  be,  considering  what  most 
of  them  go  through  in  their  long  lives  of  penury  and 
struggle ;  but  in  her  case  there  was  more  than  enough 
reason.     Martha's  story  was  this : 

As  a  girl  in  service  she  had  become  engaged  to  the 
son  of  the  local  baker.  All  had  gone  well  until  they 
took  a  day's  holiday  to  visit  a  seaside  resort,  where 
he  became  wholly  and  dangerously  intoxicated,  and 
so  terrified  her  that  she  broke  off  the  match.  He 
did  all  he  could  to  win  her  again,  but  in  vain ;  and 
after  some  years  he  married  another  girl  from  the  same 
place,  a  big,  strong  creature  who  was  cook  to  the  doctor. 
They  lived  in  the  village,  where  the  man  worked  as  a 
gardener  and  attended  the  same  chapel  as  Martha, 
who  also  had  remained  there,  although  only  too  eager 
to  get  away,  tethered  to  it  by  an  epileptic  brother  and 
bedridden  mother,  on  whom  she  had  to  wait.  At  last 
the  dislike  of  seeing  the  man  and  his  wife  together 
so  told  upon  her  that  she  left  chapel  and  began  to 
go  to  church ;  the  man  himself  she  avoided,  exchang- 
ing the  time  of  day  with  him  when  they  met,  but  no 
more,  and  though  not  jealous  of  his  wife,  she  in- 
tensely resented  her. 

So  things  went  on  for  sixteen  years,  when  she  was 


244  LONDON,  LAVENDER 

at  last  able  to  leave  the  village  and  take  service  in  a 
neighbouring  town,  and  cease  to  be  reminded  of  the 
man's  existence. 

One  evening,  two  years  after,  there  was  a  knock  at 
the  back  door,  and  when  she  went  to  it  there  he  was. 
His  wife  had  been  dead  six  months;  he  was  very 
lonely  and  unhappy ;  he  had  never  really  loved  any- 
one but  Martha,  and  would  she  marry  him  now? 
Partly  from  the  suddenness  of  the  shock ;  partly  from 
a  feeling  that  here  was  the  finger  of  Fate ;  not  a  little 
from  pleasurable  excitement  and  pride  to  think  of 
the  power  she  exerted ;  and  partly,  in  her  own  words, 
because  "it  seemed  more  natural  like  to  die  a  married 
woman,"  she  consented.  "The  thought,"  to  quote 
her  again,  "of  his  coming  back  after  all  those  years 
and  saying  he  had  never  wanted  anybody  else  took 
my  breath  away,  and  made  it  impossible  to  say  no." 

Anyway,  they  were  married,  only  for  her  at  once 
to  discover  that  her  husband  was  a  secret  drinker  of 
the  worst  kind,  and  had  been  so  for  years.  He  made 
no  disguise  of  it  to  her,  and  even  told  her  that  his 
first  wife  had  helped  to  keep  it  dark  by  locking  him 
in  the  house  till  the  orgy  was  over  and  then  thrashing 
him  with  his  own  leather  belt  —  a  feat  to  which  Martha 
refers  in  envious  admiration,  for  she  is  a  little  meek 
woman.  She  had  no  power  to  cope  with  the  situation, 
and  her  husband  became  worse.  The  secret  was  a 
secret  no  longer;  he  lost  his  work,  and,  during  a 
period  of  distress,  died  of  pneumonia  three  years  after 
his  second  marriage. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  245 

Martha,  who  was  now  a  woman  of  over  fifty,  went 
back  to  service  and  became  housekeeper  to  a  country 
clergyman,  an  old  bachelor,  where  for  two  weeks  she 
was  in  transports  of  delight,  only  to  be  plunged  in 
misery  and  anxiety  by  the  discovery  that  her  new 
master  also  was  a  drunkard,  and  that  the  real  reason 
of  her  engagement  to  him  was  to  assist  in  keeping 
this  fact  from  the  parish.  This,  with  the  assistance 
of  a  curate,  she  did  her  best  to  accomplish ;  the  poor 
old  gentleman  during  his  periodical  outbreaks  was 
confined  as  much  as  possible  to  one  room.  Again 
and  again  she  made  up  her  mind  to  run  away,  but 
she  was  restrained,  partly  by  pity  for  her  employer, 
who,  when  not  in  his  cups,  was  the  sweetest  of 
characters,  and  partly  from  the  knowledge  that  her 
age  was  a  bad  one  for  re-engagement.  The  clergy- 
man, who  knew  all  about  his  unfortunate  malady, 
further  enlisted  her  sympathies  by  telling  her  that  it 
was  after  his  wife's  death  that  he  had  begun  to  give 
way. 

For  seven  years  the  deception  was  maintained, 
when  one  day  the  scandal  could  be  hidden  no  longer; 
the  parish  rose,  the  Bishop  interfered,  and  the  un- 
happy invalid  was  removed  to  closer  restraint. 
Martha  for  a  while  lived  on  her  savings,  such  as  they 
were,  and  assistance  from  the  clergyman's  friends, 
who  knew  how  hard  she  had  toiled  to  preserve  his 
good  name,  and  then  Mrs.  Pink's  almshouses  being 
set  up  in  her  neighbourhood,  she  entered  that  haven, 
and  is  now  in  security  for  the  rest  of  her  days. 


246  LONDON  LAVENDER 

She  is  perfectly  sane  except  for  the  obsession  that 
it  is  her  duty  to  write  to  the  King,  calling  upon  him 
to  prohibit  the  sale  of  alcohol  anywhere  in  England, 
and  so  save  millions  of  homes.  But  although  she  is 
convinced  that  a  letter  sent  to  the  King  always  gets 
to  him  and  cannot  fail  of  its  purpose,  the  missive  has 
never  gone,  for  the  simple  reason  that  she  cannot 
compose  it  to  her  satisfaction,  being  too  little  of  a 
scholar,  and  she  will  not  allow  anyone  else  to  write 
it  for  her.  It  is  because  of  vicarious  assistance  in 
such  matters  that  similar  letters  have  not  had  the 
desired  effect,  and  she  will  not  prejudice  her  case  in 
that  way.  Such  is  the  life  story  of  Martha  Drax  at 
No.  8. 

I  came  away,  again  wondering  what  Spanton  would 
say  of  all  this  serenity  and  comfort.  Foolish  senti- 
mentalism,  probably.  Wanton  and  anti-social  waste 
of  money  to  cosset  these  old,  unproductive  women. 
Let  the  back-numbers  either  perish  or  look  after 
themselves.  And  so  on.  But  to  talk  like  that  is  to 
disregard  human  nature  and  the  kindlier  feelings. 
A  state  that  deliberately  refused  the  responsibilities 
of  protecting  and  caring  for  its  old  might  achieve 
miracles  of  scientific  housing,  profit-sharing,  and  so 
forth ;  but  it  would  be  fossilized  at  the  core.  Senti- 
ment and  emotion  cannot  be  left  out. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

IN  WHICH  I  AT  LAST  BECOME  ACQUAINTED 
WITH  THE  TOP-FLOOR-FRONT,  AND  HEAR 
HIS  ROMANTIC   STORY 

IT  was  just  as  I  was  putting  away  my  book,  quite 
late,  that  Miss  Laura  knocked  at  the  door  to  say 
that  Mr.  Carstairs,  the  gentleman  on  the  top  floor, 
who  had  been  ill  for  some  days,  had  asked  if  I  would 
be  so  good  as  to  pay  him  a  short  visit.  This  seemed 
to  me  odd,  for  beyond  exchanging  "good  morning" 
now  and  then,  we  had  never  spoken ;  but  it  was  not 
a  request  that  I  could  disregard,  and  up  I  went. 

The  old  gentleman  was  in  bed,  and  as  he  lay  there, 
gaunt  and  grey,  with  his  hollow  cheeks  and  bright 
eyes  and  pointed  beard,  he  was  like  nothing  in  the 
world  but  Don  Quixote.  With  a  courteous  move- 
ment he  motioned  me  to  a  chair,  and  then  thanked 
me  for  having  compassion  on  a  stranger's  whim. 

For  a  while  after  this  there  was  silence,  and  I  had 
an  opportunity  of  noticing  how  bare  was  his  room  of 
all  but  necessities,  although  those  seemed  of  the  best. 
There  were  no  pictures.  I 

"I  asked  you  to  come,"  Mr.  Carstairs  began, 
"because  I  had  a  bad  night  last  night  and  I  have  had 

247 


248  London  lavender; 

a  bad  day.  This  you  may  think  but  a  poor  reason," 
he  continued,  in  his  quiet,  cultured  voice,  smiling 
faintly,  "and  to  you,  who  are  well  and  strong,  it  is 
inadequate.  But  to  me,  who  am  dying,  it  is  justifica- 
tion for  any  eccentricity.  I  liked  you  directly  I  saw 
you,  and  it  pains  me  to  think  that  I  have  taken  no 
steps  to  cultivate  the  acquaintance  of  yourself  and 
your  wife;  but  I  have  long  got  out  of  the  way  of 
making  overtures  of  friendship,  and  to  occupy  rooms 
in  the  same  house  is  not  one  of  the  best  passports  to 
a  good  understanding." 

He  lay  back  exhausted  and  began  to  cough.  I 
looked  among  the  bottles  for  a  lenitive  and  found  only 
an  empty  one.  Asking  him  if  there  was  another,  I 
understood  him  to  say  it  was  in  the  cupboard  by  the 
window;  and  to  this  I  hurried.  But  no  sooner  was 
my  hand  on  the  handle  than  his  face  underwent  a 
terrifying  transformation,  and  he  half-sprang  from 
bed  crying,  "Not  there  !     Not  there  !" 

I  came  hurriedly  from  the  door,  and  he  quieted 
down  and  directed  me  to  a  cupboard  on  the  other 
side.  Now  what  Bluebeard's  closet  was  this?  I 
wondered  (with  Mrs.  Wiles).     I  was  soon  to  know. 

"I  throw  myself  on  your  good  nature,"  he  resumed, 
"because  I  am  in  extremis  and  have  no  friend  within 
call.  It  is  extremely  improbable  that  I  shall  get  well 
from  this  attack.  You  see,  for  one  thing  I  am  a 
good  age,  and  for  another  I  have  very  little  to  live 
for,  and  therefore  am  not  likely  to  make  a  fight  of  it." 

I  murmured  the  usual  things. 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


249 


"No,"  he  said,  "there's  very  little  in  it.  If  I 
recover  it  is  only  for  a  brief  while,  with  impaired 
strength.  If  I  were  younger  and  happier  even  that 
would  be  worth  having;  but  really  one  may  as  well 
die  to-day  as  to-morrow.     It's  got  to  be." 

This  is  a  form  of  fatalism  with  which  I  am  as  fit 
to  grapple  as  a  seamstress  with  a  cuttlefish,  so  I  said 
nothing. 

"Your  kindness  in  coming  up,"  he  continued,  "leads 
me  to  ask  you  to  be  kinder  still  and  administer 
my  effects.  They  are  few  enough.  I  want  every- 
thing to  go  to  the  National  Art  Collections  Fund. 
It  sounds  simple,  but  there  is  this  complication,  that 
the  name  by  which  I  am  known  is  not  my  real  name ; 
and  my  real  name,  although  it  is  bound  to  come  out, 
I  want  to  be  still  suppressed  in  connection  with  my- 
self.    I  die  as  John  Carstairs." 

My  face,  no  doubt,  indicated  some  perplexity,  for 
he  went  on. 

"You  will  understand  only  if  I  tell  you  the  whole 
story ;  but  first  I  must  confess  that  I  am  one  of  the 
most  notorious  of  living  thieves  —  perhaps  almost  the 
most  famous  of  all,  in  this  country  —  who  have  never 
been  found  out.  When  I  die  the  secret  must  of  neces- 
sity be  in  part  discovered.  I  look  to  you  to  help  me 
so  that  my  name  and  the  theft  are  kept  distinct." 

I  said  nothing  for  a  little  while,  but  merely  pondered 
on  the  accidents  of  life  in  general,  and  in  particular 
that  accident  which  had  led  me  to  7  Primrose  Terrace, 
Regent's  Park,  to  a  respectable-looking  house  kept 


250  LONDON  LAVENDER 

by  refined  twins,  in  which  I  was  to  live  beneath  a 
dying  brigand  and  be  forced  into  the  position  of  his 
executor. 

"Does  the  prospect  alarm  you?"  he  asked. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "to  be  frank,  it  is  not  what  I  should 
have  asked  for.  But,"  I  added  hastily,  "you  may 
continue  your  instructions :  that  is,  if  you  are  really 
certain  that  there  is  no  one  but  myself  to  help  you. 
Have  you  no  lawyer  ?" 

"A  lawyer  witnessed  my  will  quite  recently,"  he 
said.  "It  is  in  order.  You  will  perhaps  go  to  him 
for  its  execution." 

"And  what  about  your  next-door  neighbour, 
Spanton?"  I  said. 

He  smiled  grimly. 

"Then  Lacey,  the  best  of  men  and  the  most  in- 
genious and  helpful  ?  " 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  thought  of  Lacey.  But  he  has 
too  much  to  do ;  and  I  was  afraid  he  might  be  too 
clever.  He  is  impulsive.  This  topic  is  so  delicate 
that  impulse  might  ruin  it.  So,"  he  smiled  humor- 
ously, "I  had  your  name  put  in  the  document." 

"Kismet,"  I  replied;  but  Heaven  knows  I  wished 
myself  downstairs  with  my  door  carefully  locked.  I 
neither  wanted  to  hear  his  story  nor  administer  his 
ill-gotten  estate.  The  whole  thing  was  absurd.  The 
chance  of  passing  fellow-lodgers  on  the  stairs'and  having 
the  misfortune  to  appear  benevolent  and  virtuous  to 
their  defective  vision  ought  not  to  be  permitted  to 
lead  to  such  embroilments  as  this.     But  I  have  ever 


LONDON  LAVENDER  251 

been  weak  and  acquiescent;  and  when  I  looked  at 
his  melancholy,  wasted  features,  what  else  could  I 
do?  A  dying  Don  Quixote  —  who  would  not  be 
foolish  for  him?  • 

When  I  agreed  he  gave  a  great  sigh  of  relief  — 
probably  at  once  the  most  tragic  and  satisfactory 
sound  I  shall  ever  hear  —  and  held  out  his  long,  bony 
hand. 

"You  can  take  it  without  fear,"  he  said,  smiling 
again;  "when  I  said  I  was  a  thief  I  did  not  say  all. 
There  is  such  a  thing  as  stealing  your  own.  But 
listen.  The  story  briefly  is  this :  I  was  a  well-to-do 
business  man,  unmarried  and  not  very  sociable. 
That  was  twenty  and  more  years  ago.  Then  a 
serious  crisis  came  in  my  life  of  which  I  need  say 
nothing,  and  I  decided  suddenly  to  leave  civilization 
completely  and  begin  all  over  afresh  where  the  con- 
ditions were  simpler.  There  was  no  disgraceful 
element  in  the  matter.  An  event  occurred  which  led 
to  complete  disillusionment  setting  in ;  I  developed 
acute  misanthropy  and  realized  that  England  and  I 
were  incompatible.  That  is  all.  Many  men  —  and 
perhaps  many  women  —  must  have  been  through  a 
similar  experience ;  but  not  all  are  as  free  as  I  was  to 
act. 

"I  laid  my  plans  very  carefully.  I  converted  a 
sufficient  amount  of  stock  into  cash;  I  made  my 
will,  leaving  everything  to  the  establishment  of  a 
certain  kind  of  night  refuge  in  London  for  the 
homeless,    wherever   they   were   most   needed;    and 


252  LONDON  LAVENDER 

then  I  disappeared.  This  was  not  difficult.  I  took 
a  passage  to  America.  Between  Liverpool  and 
Queenstown  I  shaved  off  my  long  beard  and 
moustache  and  changed  my  clothes.  At  Queens- 
town  I  left  my  stateroom,  after  depositing  a  last 
letter  on  the  table,  and  went  ashore  among  a  crowd 
of  other  passengers.  There  I  took  train  at  once  and 
was  soon  in  London  again,  where  I  shipped  for 
Australia  and  the  South  Seas.  Meanwhile,  that  had 
happened  on  the  steamer  which  I  had  foreseen.  My 
stateroom  was  not  opened  until  some  hours  after 
the  vessel  was  on  her  way  to  America,  and  the 
contents  of  the  letter  there  led  people  to  assume  that 
I  had  jumped  overboard.  I  was  therefore  dead.  A 
sufficient  time  having  elapsed,  the  courts  officially 
presumed  my  death,  my  estate  was  wound  up,  and 
I  was  a  thing  of  the  past.  Any  reasonably  careful 
man  can  disappear  still,  in  spite  of  Marconi  and  all 
the  other  modern  obstacles,  provided  he  has  not 
committed  a  crime.     And  it  was  easier  then." 

"Were  the  night  refuges  built?"  I  asked. 

"Oh  yes,"  he  said.  " I  have  slept  in  one.  A  most 
curious  experience. 

"Arrived  in  Sydney  I  opened  a  banking  account 
in  my  new  name,  made  some  investments,  and  passed 
on  to  the  South  Seas,  where,  for  fifteen  years,  I  lived 
a  calm  life,  succeeding  commercially,  as  I  was  bound 
to  do,  and  happier  perhaps  than  not,  although  happi- 
ness was  never  in  my  grasp,  nor  could  it  be.  Then 
gradually    the    desire  once  more   to  be  in  London 


LONDON  LAVENDER  253 

became  very  powerful;  while  an  absolute  mania 
seized  me  again  to  see  pictures.  Particularly  one 
picture.  That  it  would  be  safe,  I  felt  sure,  for  I 
was  much  changed  and  had  had  few  intimate  friends 
at  any  time." 

He  paused,  tired  with  his  effort,  and  lay  still. 

"I  must  tell  you,"  he  continued,  "that  I  had  been 
not  only  a  great  lover  of  pictures  wherever  they  were 
to  be  seen,  but  a  collector  too.  At  the  time  of  my 
disappearance  I  had  one  of  the  best  small  private 
collections  in  the  country.  Such,  however,  had  been 
my  disgust  with  life  that  it  included  these  pictures 
too,  and  in  my  rage  and  haste  to  have  broken  with 
everything,  I  was  ready  to  break  with  them  as  well, 
and  my  will  gave  instructions  for  all  my  pictures  to 
be  sold  save  one  little  jewel  of  paint,  the  very  gem 
of  the  collection  —  a  small  Madonna  which  has  been 
attributed  to  Verrocchio  —  and  this  I  left  to  the 
National  Gallery.  It  was  this  picture  that  I  felt  I 
must  at  any  risk  again  see.  I  therefore  sold  my 
South  Sea  business,  wound  up  my  affairs,  and 
returned  to  London,  again  a  rich  man,  finding  a 
lodging  in  this  house.     That  was  seven  years  ago. 

"  So  far  all  is  well.  Now  comes  the  criminal  part  of 
the  story.  No  sooner  did  I  see  my  little  Verrocchio 
on  its  easel  in  the  National  Gallery  —  in  the  most 
honoured  place  —  than  I  realized  that  I  could  not  live 
without  it.  I  had  not  known  what  a  spell  I  was 
under  or  I  would  have  stayed  away.  It  had  always 
been  in  my  living-room  in  my  old  life,  and  I  found 


254  LONDON  LAVENDER 

that  I  belonged  to  it  still.  I  used  to  go  day  after 
day  to  Trafalgar  Square  to  worship  it  —  nothing  less. 
I  became  known  to  the  attendants.  After  closing 
hours  I  would  plot  how  to  get  possession  of  it  again. 
I  could  not  go  to  the  Director  and  say  who  I  was 
and  insist  on  a  return  of  the  picture  until  I  died  in 
earnest.  For  one  thing  he  would  not  have  believed 
me,  and  to  make  him  believe  me  would  have  meant 
an  endless  and  merciless  raking  up  of  the  past :  more 
than  that,  a  return  to  my  old  identity,  which  was 
unbearable :  men  shaking  hands  with  me,  newspaper 
comment,  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  Again,  there  was  the 
risk  that  he  might  think  me  a  dangerous  lunatic  and 
forbid  me  the  Gallery.     Think  of  that ! 

"I  had  therefore  to  consider  how  to  get  the  picture 
secretly,  and  at  last  I  managed  it  —  at  noon,  of 
course,  for  that  is  the  true  time  for  successful  theft, 
and  by  means  of  a  big  cloak  on  copying  day.  I  had 
carefully  noted  the  times  when  vigilance  was  relaxed, 
and  waited  my  chance.  It  came;  I  removed  the 
picture,  passed"  quietly  into  the  street,  and  found  my 
way  here  unobserved." 

He  paused  again.  "  You  will,  of  course,  remember 
the  incident,"  he  went  on.  "The  world  rang  with  it. 
'Theft  of  the  famous  Verrocchio.'  I  had  very  little 
fear  of  being  discovered  and,  naturally,  no  remorse; 
but  I  must  admit  to  a  little  self-consciousness  on 
my  next  visit  to  Trafalgar  Square  —  for,  of  course,  I 
was  not  so  foolish  as  to  discontinue  my  old  habits. 
But  I  was  cunning.     I  went  to  the  Director  and 


LONDON  LAVENDER  255 

offered  to  give  £5000  as  a  reward  for  the  detection 
of  the  thief  —  on  the  condition  that  the  donor's  name 
was  not  published.  I  was  able  also  to  discuss  the 
theft  with  the  officials  quite  calmly.  My  one  regret 
was  that  the  custodian  of  the  room  in  which  my 
little  masterpiece  was  kept  was  discharged,  but  I 
have  seen  to  it,  always  anonymously,  that  he  has  not 
lost  financially. 

"I  now  began  to  be  almost  happy.  I  had  my 
picture  and,  the  National  Gallery  being  negligible, 
I  was  again  able  to  look  in  at  Christie's  whenever  I 
wished  and  mix  again  in  this  ocean  we  call  London. 
I  bought  no  more ;  I  had  the  best ;  but  I  saw  every- 
thing that  was  good,  and  became  an  amateur  expert 
at  the  service  of  any  of  my  dealer  acquaintances. 

My  one  disappointment  was  that  being  so  excep- 
tional a  picture  thief  I  was  not  and  am  not  able 
to  enter  into  the  feelings  of  the  more  typical  kind. 
For  naturally  the  one  thing  above  all  others  that  I 
want  to  know  is  who  took  the  Louvre  Leonardo,  and 
why,  and  where  it  is.  The  motive  could  not  have 
been  identical  with  mine,  but  it  might  be  akin.  But 
this  I  shall  never  know,  because  I  am  going  to  die." 

"Not  yet,"  I  said,  "not  yet." 

"Yes,"  he  replied.  "And  I  must  waste  no  more 
time.  I  am  very  weak.  What  I  want  you  to  do  is 
to  get  this  picture  back  into  the  possession  of  the 
National  Gallery  without  anyone  suspecting  my 
connection  with  it.  That  is  all.  The  ordinary 
execution    of   my    will   you    and   the    lawyer    can 


256  LONDON  LAVENDER 

manage  without  the  faintest  difficulty,  and  I  have 
left  you  plenty  for  such  expense  and  trouble  as  you 
are  put  to.  But  the  restitution  of  this  picture  I  count 
on  you  to  make  alone.     You  will  do  it  ?  " 

I  shook  his  hand.  "I  will  do  everything  possible 
to  preserve  secrecy,"  I  said. 

"There  is  no  hurry,"  he  replied.  "Take  your  time. 
Keep  it  in  your  room  in  a  parcel  until  you  are  ready. 
Only  the  suspected  are  suspected  in  this  world,  and 
you  and  I  are  equally  remote  from  their  thoughts." 

He  lay  still  again. 

"  But  where,"  I  asked,  after  a  while,  "is  the  picture  ?  " 

"In  there,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  door  to  which 
I  had  wrongly  gone  for  the  cough  mixture.  "Go  in. 
No  one  has  seen  it  here  but  myself." 

I  opened  the  door  and  found  myself  in  a  little 
room  lighted  by  one  window.  Opposite  this  on  the 
wall  was  a  curtain. 

"Turn  on  the  light,"  he  said,  "and  draw  back  the 
curtain." 

I  did  so,  and  beheld  one  of  the  most  exquisite 
paintings  I  ever  saw  —  the  head  of  a  girl,  sweet, 
wistful,  understanding,  and  gay.  Not  quite  a 
Madonna ;  no  mother ;  but  the  very  personification 
of  youthful  joy,  sympathy,  and  loveliness.  I  knew 
too  little  of  painting  to  express  an  opinion  as  to  the 
authenticity,  and  Verrocchio,  I  am  told,  although  he 
was  the  master  of  Leonardo  and  Perugino  and 
Lorenzo  di  Credi,  has  left  almost  nothing  authenti- 
cally from  his  own  brush ;   but  there  is  a  candour  and 


LONDON  LAVENDER  257 

charm  in  the  treatment,  and  transparency  in  the 
colours,  which  are  like  nothing  that  I  know  except 
the  National  Gallery  picture  attributed  to  this  mas- 
ter's school. 

"Bring  it  to  me,  please,"  said  Carstairs  from  his 
bed,  and  I  carried  it  in  and  held  it  for  him. 

"No  one  has  ever  seen  it  but  myself  —  and  now  you 
—  since  it  left  the  Gallery  four  years  ago,"  he  said. 
"Mrs.  Wiles  has  done  her  best  to  get  into  that  room, 
but  in  vain.  I  suppose  everyone  who  steals  a  picture 
or  becomes  the  owner  of  a  stolen  picture  has  similar 
difficulties.  Perhaps  the  safer  way  would  be  to  have 
another  canvas  or  panel  over  the  stolen  one,  in  the 
same  frame,  to  slide  aside  when  one  is  alone ;  but 
that  would  mean  taking  a  workman  more  or  less  into 
one's  confidence,  and  no  wise  thief  does  that. 

"Put  it  back,  put  it  back,"  he  cried  suddenly,  as  he 
fell  on  his  pillow  unconscious. 

I  did  so  at  once,  put  the  key  of  the  cupboard  door 
in  my  pocket,  and  telephoned  for  the  doctor. 

Carstairs  died  that  night. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

IN  WHICH  I  BECOME  THE  VERY  OPPOSITE  OF  A 
THIEF,  YET  FEEL  ALL  A  THIEF'S  SENSE  OF 
GUILT 

AFTER  visiting  Naomi  to  tell  her  of  the  state  of 
things  upstairs,  I  returned  to  Mr.  Carstairs' 
room  and  awaited  the  doctor.  The  sick  man  did  not 
recover  consciousness.  It  was  then  necessary  to 
inform  the  Misses  Packer  and  telephone  to  the  under- 
taker, and  this  I  agreed  to  do.  Before,  however,  I 
descended  to  the  basement  with  my  grim  message, 
I  secured  some  paper  and  string,  made  a  parcel 
of  the  little  Verrocchio,  and  placed  it  on  a  shelf 
in  my  room.  Having  agreed  to  carry  out  this 
peculiar  and  delicate  commission,  I  meant  to  do  it 
thoroughly. 

Miss  Laura  and  Miss  Emma  took  the  demise  of 
Mr.  Carstairs  as  a  personal  affront.  I  gathered  that 
he  had  never  been  a  favourite  with  them,  although  his 
money  was  good  and  he  gave  no  trouble ;  but  to  die 
under  their  roof  they  held  to  be  an  action  not  only 
ungentlemanly  but  dishonest. 

258 


LONDON  LAVENDER  259 

"  Brings  such  a  bad  name  on  a  house  to  have  any- 
one die  in  it,"  said  Miss  Laura.  "I  shouldn't  be  at 
all  surprised  if  Mr.  Spanton  were  to  leave.  Of  course 
with  you,  sir,  it's  different,  you  not  being  acquainted 
with  the  deceased,  and  two  floors  away,  whereas  Mr. 
Spanton's  so  close." 

Having  had  another  look  at  the  mysterious  cup- 
board, I  thought  it  best  to  obtain  the  services  of  a 
lawyer  before  proceeding  further;  and  together  we 
looked  for  the  will.  It  was  easily  found,  and  on 
reading  it  I  discovered  that  the  old  fellow  had  truly 
inserted  my  name  as  his  executor  with  a  firm  hand 
some  days  before  he  asked  me :  not  a  bad  divination 
of  my  besetting  complaisance !  I  discovered  also 
something  that  caused  the  Misses  Packer  not  only  to 
change  their  tone  with  regard  to  the  deceased  but 
send  them  cheerfully  to  his  funeral  in  new  and  be- 
coming mourning,  for  he  left  them  each  fifty  pounds 
in  recognition  of  their  unremitting  kindness,  and 
asked  to  be  allowed  to  pay  for  the  new  papering  and 
whitewashing  of  his  rooms.  To  Mrs.  Wiles  he  left 
ten  pounds,  and  to  his  executor,  "to  compensate  him 
for  any  unusual  worry,  vexation,  and  expense  to 
which  he  may  be  put,"  five  hundred  pounds  —  an 
amount  which  seemed  to  perplex  the  lawyer  not  a 
little.  "  You're  very  lucky,  my  dear  sir,"  he  said. 
"  Why,  there's  nothing  to  do  ! "  If  the  Law  only 
knew  ! 

We  buried  John  Carstairs  at  Kensal  Green,  and  I 
ordered  the  stonecutter  to  place  on  his  tombstone 


260  LONDON  LAVENDER 

the  words,  from  the  Song  of  Solomon,  "  O  thou 
fairest  among  women,"  and  to  this  hour  the  honest 
fellow  thinks  I  am  mad. 

These  things  being  accomplished,  I  was  free  to 
bend  my  mind  to  the  question  of  the  restitution  of 
the  little  Verrocchio;  and  this  I  had  to  work  out 
absolutely  alone.  I  could  not  even  tell  Naomi,  even 
under  that  elastic  understanding  which  is  held  to 
entitle  married  people  to  share  secrets  entrusted  to 
either,  for  although  I  am  no  believer  in  the  old  saying 
that  no  woman  can  keep  a  secret,  or,  rather,  do  not 
believe  that  a  woman  is  less  of  an  oyster  in  these 
matters  than  a  man,  yet  I  did  not  wish  to  burden 
her  with  so  good  a  forbidden  mystery.  I  do  not  say 
she  would  have  been  embarrassed  to  retain  it;  but 
even  the  most  cautious  of  us  have  a  way  now  and 
then  of  dressing  up  a  friend's  confidence  vaguely, 
with  several  removes,  and  so  forth,  which,  though 
safe  enough  in  some  companies,  might  give  every- 
thing away  to  a  clever  listener  who  was  acquainted 
with  one's  circle.     Anyway  I  did  not  tell  her. 

The  only  real  temptation  which  I  had  to  break  the 
dead  man's  injunction,  was  to  tell  Lacey.  Lacey 
would  not  only  have  been  useful,  but  he  would  have 
so  enjoyed  it.  I  did  not  even  dare  to  skirt  the  subject 
with  him,  to  get  the  benefit  of  his  improvisations.' 
Furley,  too,  what  would  he  not  have  given  to 
be  in  a  position  to  "  film  "  me  (as  he  calls  it)  with 
the  famous  picture  under  my  arm  on  the  errand 
of  restitution  ! 


LONDON  LAVENDER  261 

I  began — as  I  guess  most  criminals  do,  and  I  was 
a  kind  of  inverted  criminal  with  all  a  criminal's  desire 
for  secrecy  —  by  inventing  elaborate  schemes,  the 
cleverest  things  you  ever  heard  of.  But  I  gave  them 
all  up  in  favour  of  the  most  obvious  commonplace 
simplicity.  Having  decided  what  to  do,  I  waited 
three  months  and  then  did  it.  The  delay  was  due  to 
the  fear  that  if  I  acted  at  once,  two  and  two  might 
easily  be  put  together,  since  Carstairs  had  left  all  his 
money  —  no  inconsiderable  sum  —  to  the  National  Art 
Collections  Fund,  and  a  comparison  of  dates  might 
lead  to  investigation,  and  an  interview  with  the 
Misses  Packer  or  Mrs.  Wiles  might  educe  the  fact  of 
the  locked  cupboard,  and  then  perhaps  there  would 
be  a  cross-examination  of  myself,  from  which  the 
truth  would  probably  emerge.  At  least,  so  I 
feared. 

I  therefore  allowed  the  parcel  to  remain  among 
my  papers  —  every  night  waking  up  convinced  the 
house  was  on  fire,  and  never  leaving  it  without  ex- 
pecting to  find  only  ashes  on  my  return  —  and  at  the 
end  of  three  months  I  chose  a  moment  when  every- 
one was  out,  and  in  broad  day  conveyed  the  parcel 
to  the  cloak-room  of  that  very  centre  of  bustle  and 
incuriosity,  the  Piccadilly  Circus  Tube  station,  where 
in  the  thick  of  passengers  and  chorus  girls,  I  de- 
posited it  and  paid  my  twopence.  The  boy  gave  me 
my  ticket  without  lifting  his  eyes,  and  I  again  merged 
with  the  crowd.     I  had  already  printed  on  a  piece  of 


262  LONDON  LAVENDER 

plain  paper  an  intimation  that  if  the  Director  of  the 
National  Gallery  would  send  for  the  parcel  concerned, 
he  would  not  regret  the  deed,  and  this  I  enclosed 
with  the  ticket  in  an  envelope,  and  dropped  it  into 
the  post. 

I  could  not  send  the  picture  direct,  because  that 
would  have  meant  either  an  intermediary  or  myself 
carrying  it.  I  could  not  send  the  note  by  express, 
because  that  would  have  meant  a  visit  to  the  post 
office  at  a  given  registered  time.  Hence  the  pillar 
box,  which,  though  safe,  gave  me  one  further  anxiety 
—  fear  lest  the  Piccadilly  Circus  station  should  also  be 
consumed  by  fire  in  the  night ;  but  this  very  unlikely 
contingency  did  not  keep  me  awake,  for,  as  Trist  says, 
"The  art  of  life  is  to  take  all  reasonable  precautions 
and  then  throw  the  responsibility  on  the  shoulders  of 
Fate." 

The  next  day  nothing  happened,  but  The  Times 
of  the  morning  after  had  the  whole  glorious  story. 
The  lines 

"recovery  of  a  lost  masterpiece, 
the  stolen  verrocchio." 

caught  my  eye  at  once,  and  I  settled  down  to  the 
perusal  of  what  still  is  to  me  the  most  amusing  piece 
of  literature  in  the  language. 

"  Listen,"  I  said  to  Naomi,  "  here's  something 
interesting,"  and  I  read  as  follows : 

"  '  It  will  be  remembered  that  some  four  years  ago 


LONDON  LAVENDER  263 

the  world  was  startled  by  the  news  that  the  portrait 
of  an  unknown  woman,  attributed  to  Verrocchio,  the 
master  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  had  disappeared  from  the 
National  Gallery.  The  theft  was  contrived  in  full 
daylight,  probably  by  a  clever  gang  whose  plans  had 
long  been  maturing,  and  although  Scotland  Yard 
exerted  every  effort,  no  trace  of  the  miscreant  was 
found.  Yesterday  the  Director  received,  by  the  first 
post,  a  letter  in  a  disguised  hand  enclosing  a  ticket  for 
the  cloak-room  at  Piccadilly  Circus  station  on  the 
Hammersmith-Finsbury  Park  Railway,  and  the 
parcel  when  opened  was  found  to  contain  the  missing 
picture.  As  to  who  brought  the  parcel  in,  the  cloak- 
room attendant  has  no  knowledge ;  he  is  too  busy,  he 
says,  to  ktake  particular  notice  of  people,  but  he 
fancies  it  was  an  elderly  woman. 

"'The  picture  has  been  subjected  to  the  most  care- 
ful scrutiny,  and  is  found  to  be  in  perfect  condition, 
and  any  question  of  its  being  a  copy  may  be  set 
aside.  The  nation  is  to  be  congratulated  on  the 
recovery  of  such  a  treasure.  No  doubt  certain  lines 
of  investigation  will  be  followed,  but  it  is  not  likely 
that  the  Trustees  will  wish  to  devote  any  large 
portion  of  their  very  exiguous  income  to  the  inquiry, 
which  after  all  could  afford  only  a  certain  sentimental 
satisfaction.  We  may  take  it  that  the  restitution 
sufficiently  indicates  the  remorse  of  the  thief,  and  let 
the  question  of  punishment  go. 

'  The  picture,  we  may  add,  came  into  the  posses- 
sion of  the  nation  in  1888,  the  bequest  of  a  wealthy 


264  LONDON  LAVENDER 

merchant  and  connoisseur  named  James  Murchison, 
who  committed  suicide  on  a  voyage  to  America  very 
shortly  after  leaving  Queenstown.  This  is  the  same 
James  Murchison  who  founded  and  endowed  the 
Murchison  night  refuges  all  over  London.'" 

I  need  hardly  add  that  there  followed  a  short  article 
proving  that  whoever  painted  the  picture  it  was  most 
certainly  not  Verrocchio. 

"What  a  strange  thing !"  said  Naomi.  "How  did 
you  say  the  picture  was  returned  ?  " 

'  Someone  seems  to  have  left  it  at  a  Tube  cloak- 
room," I  replied,  "  and  sent  the  Director  the 
ticket." 

"That  was  very  clever,"  Naomi  said.  "I  wonder 
how  you  would  set  about  it  if  you  had  to  restore  a 
stolen  picture.  Not  like  that,  I  feel  certain. 
You'd  do  something  at  once  more  clever  and  less 
clever." 

"Yes,"  I  said. 

"I  should  like  to  see  the  picture  so  much,"  Naomi 
continued.     "  Do  you  think  it  is  on  view  ?  " 

"Sure  to  be,"  I  said. 

"Then  let's  look  in  this  morning,  shall  we  ? " 

I  was  only  too  willing,  and  together  we  stood 
before  the  little  Verrocchio  in  its  new  position, 
screwed  to  the  wall,  with  a  custodian  on  either 
side.  Never  have  I  been  so  glad  to  see  any  picture 
in  its  right  place. 

"  Why  do  you  sigh  like  that  ?  "  Naomi  asked. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  265 

"  It's  so  satisfying,"  I  said,  but  I  did  not  mean 
quite  what  she  thought. 

And  so  ended  not  only  my  first,  and  I  hope  last, 
participation  in  the  higher  crime,  but  also  my  first, 
and  I  hope  last,  deception  of  Naomi. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

IN  WHICH  I  BRING  TOGETHER  THREE  MEN 
WHO  WERE  DUE  TO  MEET,  AND  A  NOVEL 
AND  BENEFICIAL  SCHEME  IS  DECIDED 
UPON 

HEAVEN,  I  am  glad  to  say,  has  been  pleased 
to  remove  Mr.  Wiles's  adopted  daughter  from 
this  transitory  sphere.  She  was  sickly  when  she 
came,  and  she  never  rallied,  in  spite  of  the  most  assidu- 
ous care  on  his  part,  in  which  he  was  more  or  less 
assisted  by  a  loyal  wife. 

"Wiles  does  nothing  but  mope,"  Mrs.  Wiles  told 
Naomi.  "At  first,  after  he  found  it  was  no  good  and 
the  creature  was  bound  to  die,  he  was  a  little  excited 
and  above  himself  with  a  scheme  he  had  for  getting 
it  Christian  burial.  I  don't  know  what's  come  over 
the  man  —  he  never  used  to  have  such  ideas  —  but  he 
actually  thought  of  trying  to  smuggle  it  into  a 
cemetery  as  though  it  was  a  real  child.  Went  about 
peering  in  undertakers'  windows  and  wondering 
which  looked  most  like  helping  him.  But  I  put  a 
stop  to  all  that.  It  wasn't  fair  to  the  real  people 
buried  there,  I  said.  A  pretty  thing  to  pay  money 
for  a  nice  grave  or  comfortable  family  vault,  and  then 

266 


LONDON  LAVENDER  267 

have  a  heathen  ape  laid  near  you  !  Wiles  came  round 
to  my  way  of  thinking,  but  he's  never  recovered  his 
spirits.  In  the  end,  he  paid  good  money  to  have  it 
buried  in  the  dogs'  cemetery  in  the  Bayswater  Road, 
and  he  let  me  have  the  scullery  new  whitewashed 
without  saying  a  word.  If  he  doesn't  get  something 
to  do  soon  I  don't  know  what  will  happen.  But  I'm 
afraid  of  the  drink  and  the  Stock  Exchange,  both, 
for  he's  begun  to  be  interested  in  tin  mines  and 
things  like  that.  If  only  Mr.  Falconer  could  rind 
him  an  occupation  !" 

The  good  woman's  concern  about  her  husband  had 
long  made  me  want  to  help,  and  after  Mrs.  Duckie's 
statement  that  the  head  waiter  of  the  "  Golden  Horn" 
had  saved  enough  to  start  an  eating-house  of  his  own, 
the  finger  of  Providence  seemed  to  be  in  it,  pointing 
directly  at  the  homely  features  of  Mordecai  Wiles, 
late  of  the  New  Ape  House. 

It  is  amusing  to  be  able  to  help  a  little,  but  a 
mistake  to  congratulate  oneself  upon  the  feat.  For 
two  reasons,  of  which  one  is  that  one  is  only  an 
instrument  of  fate  or  chance,  and  the  other  that  most 
deeds  which  at  first  wear  the  guise  of  assistance  have 
a  way  of  turning  into  mischief.  The  Spaniards, 
whose  proverbs  are  the  best,  say  that  he  who  would 
tell  the  truth  should  have  one  foot  in  the  stirrup; 
and  similarly  I  would  advise  most  self-conscious 
benefactors  of  their  neighbours  to  be  all  ready  to 
run.  For  otherwise  they  are  in  danger  of  the  wrong 
kind  of  thanks. 


568  ^LONDON  LAVENDER 

In  the  present  case,  however,  no  harm  has  yet  come 
to  me.  The  victims  of  my  experiment  in  busybody- 
clom  —  or  helpfulness,  if  you  like  —  are  not  only  Mr. 
Wiles  and  Mr.  Duckie,  but  (such  strange  bedtellows 
can  an  active  altruist  bring  together)  Mr.  Lacey. 
Mr.  Duckie  for  the  reasons  given ;  Mr.  Wiles  also  for 
the  reasons  given;  and  Mr.  Lacey,  because  he  had 
told  me  of  his  wonderful  chop-house  scheme.  It  was 
a  simple  duty  to  unite  them;  and  we  met  at  Mr. 
Wiles's  for  the  purpose  —  the  time  and  the  place  and 
the  interested  ones  all  together. 

The  weight  of  the  interview  fell  upon  Mr.  Lacey, 
but  he  enjoyed  it.  He  had  to  convince  Mr.  Wiles 
that  there  was  money  in  an  eating-house  at  all ;  and 
Mr.  Duckie,  that  to  limit  the  food  so  severely  was 
practicable ;  and  both,  that  (as  I  had  told  them,  but 
men  are  stubbornly  sceptical  in  such  matters)  he  was 
an  enthusiast  and  not  a  company  promoter.  One 
can  so  easily  be  misunderstood  on  this  point. 

He  outlined  his  scheme,  I  must  admit,  with  a 
persuasiveness  that  no  company  promoter  could 
exceed,  and  a  poor  observer  might  easily  have  con- 
fused him  with  that  bete  noire;  but  neither  of  his 
hearers  kindled  perceptibly.  Mr.  Wiles  has  had  so 
many  affable  gentlemen  endeavouring,  as  Farrar's 
phrase  has  it,  to  bite  his  ear,  that  he  has  come  to 
adopt  an  apathetic  mien  as  second  nature;  while 
Mr.  Duckie  was  obviously  pained  and  startled  by 
the  revolutionary  character  of  Mr.  Lacey's  pro- 
posal. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  269 

"Hot  chops,  of  course,  gentlemen  like,"  said  Mr. 
Duckie,  "but  not  for  ever.  Cold  chops  I've  never 
heard  of.     That  is  to  say,  chops  cold  on  purpose." 

Mr.  Lacey  admitted  that  it  was  an  experiment. 
Possibly  there  might  not  be  many  customers  who 
would  come  every  day,  but  there  ought  to  be  enough 
regular  customers  for  every  other  day,  and  plenty  of 
strangers  in  a  hurry,  always.  It  would  be,  frankly,  a 
house  for  hasty  lunches.  That  would  be  stated. 
There  should  be  no  disguise  about  it;  the  outside 
would  convey  the  intimation  that  within  you  could 
have  a  cold  chop  and  salad  in  one  minute,  or  a  hot 
chop  and  hot  buttered  toast  in  ten  minutes,  and 
nothing  else.  "This  world,"  said  Mr.  Lacey,  "would 
be  a  vastly  easier  place  if  everyone  announced  his 
business  in  plain  language.  There's  no  diplomacy  like 
frankness." 

The  idea  was  a  novel  one  to  Mr.  Duckie,  who  had 
served  for  so  many  years  in  a  restaurant  where  the 
bill  of  fare  spelt  new  potatoes  and  new  peas  in  capital 
letters  right  into  August,  and  prefixed  the  word  fresh 
to  its  coffee  all  the  year  round. 

"People  don't  like  to  be  told  that  they  can't  get 
nothing  else,"  he  said.  "The  words  are  not  hospi- 
table, if  I  may  say  so." 

Mr.  Lacey  pointed  out  that  in  the  long  run  the 
plain  dealer  won.  That  is,  if  his  quality  was  equal 
to  his  candour. 

Mr.  Duckie,  however,  was  a  very  old  dog  to  learn 
such  unwonted  tricks. 


270  LONDON  LAVENDER 

"But  what  about  the  people  who  want  roast  beef  ?" 
he  asked  at  length. 

"They  must  go  elsewhere,"  said  Mr.  Lacey.  "We 
have  nothing  for  them." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Duckie,  "but  roast  beef's  such  a 
popular  dish." 

"It  can't  be  helped,"  said  Mr.  Lacey.  "We  must 
specialize." 

"I  see  that,"  said  Mr.  Duckie,  "but  wouldn't  it  be 
better  to  specialize  in  beef  rather  than  mutton? 
Gentlemen  are  so  partial  to  beef.  Hot  beef,  cabbage, 
and  potatoes,  or  cold  beef  and  salad." 

Mr.  Lacey  pointed  out  the  difference  between  the 
two  schemes.  "If  you  want  beef  and  vegetables  you 
want  an  oven  and  a  totally  different  arrangement  of 
kitchens.  The  difficulty  about  potatoes  is,  they  are 
never  hot ;  cabbage  is  not  always  in  season ;  and 
joints  of  beef  mean  a  certain  amount  of  waste.  Chops 
and  toast  can  be  cooked  at  the  grill,  and  there  is  no 
waste.  The  place  would  need  plenty  of  grill  accom- 
modation and  two  or  three  of  the  best  grillers  to  be 
obtained.  Also  the  best  chops,  butter,  and  salad  oil. 
Could  anything  be  simpler?  The  salad  oil  should 
come  from  Italy  direct;  the  house  should  become 
famous  for  it.  Tarragon  vinegar  too  —  very  little 
dearer  than  the  other  and  much  more  memorable." 

What  a  wonderful  man,  I  thought,  as  he  went  on, 
kindling  as  he  spoke,  and  thinking  as  he  spoke,  for 
he  is  a  born  improviser ;  business  men  in  every  walk 
of  life  ought  to  pay  him  ten  guineas  an  hour  just  to 


LONDON  LAVENDER  271 

make  him  talk  on  their  own  affairs.     But  business 
men  have  always  a  horror  of  men  with  ideas. 

Mr.  Duckie,  I  noticed,  began  to  kindle  too,  but 
very  cautiously.     He  still  had  beef  on  his  mind. 

"Very  true,"  he  said;  "but  what  I  mean  about 
roast  beef  is,  that  gentlemen  seem  to  expect  it. 
When  they're  in  a  hurry  they  always  ask  if  there's 
any  cold  beef." 

Mr.  Lacey  told  him  again  about  the  big  notice 
outside  the  chop-house.  No  one  could  come  in  under 
false  pretences. 

"But,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Duckie,  "you  don't  know 
them.  It  doesn't  matter  what  you  say  outside,  they'll 
come  in  and  ask  for  roast  beef.  People  who're 
hungry  have  no  reason." 

"Very  well,  then,  let  them  ask ;  they  won't  get  it," 
said  Mr.  Lacey. 

"But  it's  such  a  mistake  in  a  restaurant  not  to 
have  what  people  want,"  said  Mr.  Duckie. 

Poor  Lacey,  his  quick  mind  was  in  despair. 

I  relieved  his  agony  by  asking  Mr.  Wiles  how  it 
all  struck  him. 

"I  think  it  is  a  good  scheme,"  he  said.  "I  believe 
in  finding  a  good  food  and  sticking  to  it.  That's 
what  we  do  with  our  apes,  and  after  all  they're  not  so 
wonderfully  different  from  city  men.  We  find  what 
suits  them  best  and  keep  them  on  it,  with  a  grape  or 
two  or  slice  of  apple  when  they've  done  a  trick,  of 
course.  I'm  all  for  cold  mutton  myself.  It's  nourish- 
ing and  it's  clean.     You  can  cut  it  with  a  pocket 


272  LONDON  LAVENDER 

knife,  like  whittling  a  stick,  and  eat  it  all.  But  what 
I've  been  wondering  is,  what  about  drink?" 

"Beer,"  said  Mr.  Lacey,  "and  whisky  and  soda,  and 
coffee.     Nothing  else.     But  the  best  of  each." 

Mr.  Duckie  had  been  very  thoughtful.  "Suppos- 
ing," he  said,  at  last,  "we  were  to  have  three  beef 
days  a  week  and  three  mutton?" 

Mr.  Lacey  would  not  hear  of  it.  "But,"  he  said, 
"look  here.  This  is  what  I'll  do.  The  scheme's 
mine,  and  if  you  take  it  up  I'll  help  you  with  advice 
about  a  site  and  furnishing  and  so  forth,  and  you 
shall  give  me  ten  per  cent,  of  the  profits  after  each  of 
you  has  drawn  ten  per  cent.,  and  nothing  if  you  don't 
draw  that.  That's  all  I  ask,  and  I  ask  that  only  if 
you  stick  to  my  idea.  But  if  you  decide  to  do  some- 
thing else,  then  I  make  you  a  present  of  the  whole 
thing  and  retire  at  once.  It  interests  me  only  as  a 
whole." 

Mr.  Duckie  admitted  that  this  was  more  than  fair, 
and  looked  at  Mr.  Wiles. 

Mr.  Wiles  said  that  for  his  part  he  would  go  into  it 
and  find  capital  to  run  it  for  three  years  at  a  reason- 
able loss,  with  Mr.  Duckie  as  manager  and  partner,  on 
a  definite  understanding  —  but  only  if  I  approved  and 
Mr.  Lacey  had  control.  "But,"  he  said,  "of  course  I 
must  ask  my  wife's  opinion,"  and  Mrs.  Wiles  was 
called  in. 

The  good  woman,  after  asking  my  views  and 
finding  that  I  supported  the  scheme,  pronounced  in 
its  favour,  speaking  both  as  a  cook  and  a  speculator. 


LONDON  LAVENDER  273 

"And  all  I  can  say,"  she  ended,  "is,  that  I  hope  you'll 
arrange  to  keep  Wiles  busy.  For  I'm  tired  of  him 
mooning  about  the  house.  And  now,  sir,  if  you've 
finished  your  talk,  I  wish  you'd  come  and  see  my 
Annie." 

She  drew  me  from  the  room,  and  with  her  finger 
on  her  lips  and  tiptoeing  along,  led  me  to  a  bedroom, 
where,  in  a  cot,  I  saw  a  little  girl  asleep. 

"That's  our  Annie,"  she  said  proudly.  "She  only 
came  to-day.  I  want  Mrs.  Falconer  to  see  her  to- 
morrow, if  she  will,  because,  of  course,  Annie  was  her 
idea." 

Lenient  as  thoughts  of  Lavender  had  made  me  to 
all  small  creatures,  I  cannot  say  that  I  viewed  Annie 
with  any  active  satisfaction,  she  was  so  poor  and 
stunted  a  little  Cockney.  But,  of  course,  it  is  best 
that  the  good  woman  should  lavish  herself  on  a 
weakling  than  on  a  robust  child.  The  robust  grow 
up  anyway,  but  the  others  want  attention.  I  asked 
Annie's  history. 

"It's  very  sad,"  said  Mrs.  Wiles.  "She  is  an  only 
child,  and  the  mother  and  father  died  within  a  few 
days  of  each  other.  The  mother  died  of  pneumonia, 
which  in  a  kind  of  way  gives  Wiles  a  special  interest 
in  Annie,  he  having  seen  so  much  of  it;  while  the 
father  was  knocked  down  and  killed  by  a  motor-bus 
only  last  week.  So  the  child  was  taken  to  the 
St.  Pancras  Workhouse,  and  we  heard  of  it  through 
one  of  Wiles' s  friends,  and  applied  for  her,  and  here 
she  is.     But  I  shall  never  think  quite  the  same  about 


274  LONDON  LAVENDER 

motor-buses  any  more.  Talk  about  blessings  in 
disguise  —  I  mean,  of  course,  to  Wiles  and  me ;  but 
what  a  disguise  ! " 

Upon  rejoining  the  others,  Lacey  and  I  came  away, 
leaving  Mr.  Duckie  as  the  Wiles's  guest  for  supper. 
The  last  words  I  heard  him  say  were  to  his  hostess, 
to  the  effect  that,  for  some  reason  or  other,  gentlemen 
seemed  to  like  beef  best. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

IN  WHICH  LAVENDER  FALCONER  ENTERS 
THIS  LIFE  AND  MEETS  WITH  GENERAL 
APPROVAL 

AFTER  a  period  of  reluctance,  in  which  she  very 
nearly  lost  all  my  good  opinion,  Miss  Lavender 
Falconer  entered  this  vale  of  tears  at  the  most  incon- 
venient hour  possible,  namely,  at  3.15  a.m.  on  a  rainy 
morning.  My  night's  rest  was  ruined ;  but  mother 
and  child  at  once  began  to  do  exceedingly  well. 

I  do  not  pretend  that  Lavender  was  beautiful. 
She  had  a  crumpled  appearance  impossible  to  recon- 
cile with  that  lissom  gracefulness  beneath  her  gown 
which  her  proud  father  some  years  hence  will  so 
value  in  her ;  but  there  was  something  very  attractive 
in  her  helplessness  —  although  even  at  the  tender  age 
of  twelve  hours  she  was  manifestly  already  a  member 
of  the  stronger  sex.  She  dominated  the  room,  and 
still  dominates  whatever  room  she  may  occupy,  and 
promises  to  continue  so  to  do.  So  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned, I  have  no  objection.  I  like  a  strong  woman 
in  the  background  engendering  confidence. 

Lavender's  visitors  were  many  and  enthusiastic, 
and  some,  like  the  Magi,  brought  gifts.  Her  grand- 
father placed  in  each  of  her  tiny  fists  a  new  sovereign 

275 


276 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


by  way  of  laying  the  foundation  of  her  dot,  and  these 
she  at  once  allowed  to  drop  on  the  floor,  an  action 
which  was  held  by  wise  observers  to  predicate  a 
generous  nature.  Mr.  Lacey  made  a  special  visit  to 
Mitcham  for  lavender  and  filled  the  room  with  it, 
while  the  Director  produced  from  his  stores  of  melody 
this  charming  old  lavender  cry: 


* 


-&- 


3=7 


j: 


t=?r- 


3=£ 


:t£ 


zd-- 


-&~ 


5EJE3 


Won't  you  buy     my  sweet  blooming    lav  •  en  •  der,    Six -teen 


P 


IE2 


~PSV 


:c: 


-G»- 


1 


■#■ 


-e>- 


=t 


2 


I 


branch  •  es    one    pen  -  ny  ?       La  -  dies    fair,      make  no    de 

-1 I 


:3=t=F 


1 


rJ       M 


=fc 


-*—Bt 


-<S>- 


Iay,      I   have  your  lav-en-  der  fresh  to-day!    Buy  it  once  you'll 


-m- 


q==1: 


-jai 


at 


3 


=t 


2± 


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buy    it     twice-—  It  makes  your  clothes  smell  sweet  and   nice. 


-£2: 


4= 


:ei: 


:*: 


=1: 


It    will  scent    your  pock-et  •  hand  •  ker  •  chiefs —  Six  •  teen 


*=t 


I 


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:a: 


I 


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^^ 


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branch-es  for  one  pen-  nyl     As    I  walk    thro' London  streets,  I 

4- 


M 


=*;*: 


F=t=J: 


r — &— j-ai— g 


:<3: 


IS 


have  your  lav-en-der  nice  and  sweet,  Sixteen  branches  for  one  pen-ny  I 


LONDON  LAVENDER  277 

The  Misses  Packer  were  in  ecstasies  of  admiration, 
although,  of  course,  we  did  not  permit  unskilled 
evidence  to  turn  our  heads.  Still,  they  had  seen 
many  babies  in  their  time  and  were  entitled  to  re- 
spectful hearing  when  they  indulged  in  comparison 
between  Lavender  and  those  others. 

"Mrs.  Harvey's  baby,  you  remember,  Emmie," 
said  Miss  Laura,  "was  a  picture;  but  nothing  com- 
pared with  Mrs.  Falconer's.  There's  a  something 
about  this  little  darling  —  I  don't  know  what  it  is,  but 
a  something  —  which  makes  it  more  remarkable  than 
any  I've  ever  seen." 

Miss  Emma  agreed  with  her,  attempting  —  I 
thought  hazardously  —  to  discover  what  the  some- 
thing was,  but  of  course  failing. 

Mrs.  Wiles  also  came  in  to  worship,  and  as  she 
gazed  grew  very  tearful.  "Adopted  children  are 
all  very  well,"  she  said,  "and  my  Annie's  a  little  pet ; 
but  there's  nothing  like  one  of  your  own.  Well,  well, 
we  can't  have  everything,  and  Wiles  has  just  bought 
a  lovely  gramophone,  and  Annie  is  trying  to  say 
'Daddy'  and  'Mammy'  quite  natural;  and  the 
invites  that  come  to  us  to  join  committees  of  chari- 
table societies,  with  lords  and  ladies  sitting  on  them 
too,  would  make  some  of  our  friends  go  green  with 
envy.".-1 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

IN  WHICH  MRS.  DUCKIE  EMPLOYS  AN  ANNI- 
HILATING PHRASE  WHICH  SO  RANKLES  THAT 
IT  SEEMS  ALMOST  ABSURD  TO  GO  ON  AT 
ALL 

MRS.  DUCKIE,  whom,  after"  her  long  speech  to 
me  on  the  duties  of  husbands,  I  felt  I  must 
acquaint  with  Lavender's  arrival,  came  up  in  her 
best  bonnet  to  see  the  ladies.  She  had  tea  with  me 
afterwards  in  the  sitting-room,  the  nurse  having 
driven  her  and  her  kindly  but  not  too  reposeful 
tongue  sternly  forth.  She  said  nothing  for  a  minute 
or  two  except  about  Mr.  Duckie  and  the  "Gog  and 
Magog  Chop  House,"  which  is  doing  famously,  thank- 
ing me  for  my  share  in  it ;  but  then,  laying  down  her 
cup,  she  uttered  quietly,  as  if  speaking  of  the  weather, 
the  most  devastating  words  I  ever  listened  to. 

"It's  the  healthiest  baby  I  ever  saw,"  she  said, 
"and  I've  seen  many.  I'm  so  glad  about  it.  And 
now  you  could  die  to-morrow,  Mr.  Falconer,  if  you 
liked." 

Did  you  ever  hear  of  such  a  bombshell  ? 

What  on  earth  did  she  mean  ?    I  asked. 

"Why,"  she  said,  "I  often  think  about  it.     That's 

what  we're  for — to  marry  and  have  children.     But  I 

278 


LONDON  LAVENDER  279 

didn't  mean  to  say  what  I  did.  It  must  have  sounded 
dreadful.  It  just  popped  out.  Still,  you're  one  as 
understands.  You  know  what  a  difference  there  is 
between  a  father  and  a  mother  —  the  mothers  have 
all  the  responsibility." 

"All  very  well,"  I  said,  "if  one  were  limited  to  one 
child.     But  am  I  not  needed  for  more  ?" 

"Oh,"  said  Mrs.  Duckie,  laughing,  "don't  worry 
about  that.  You'll  never  have  another.  Not  you  ! 
You've  got  'one  child  only'  written  all  over  you." 

"Then  Nature's  done  with  me?"  I  said  as  lightly 
as  I  could. 

"Oh,  I  dare  say  you'll  live  to  be  eighty,  and  I  hope 
you  will,"  Mrs.  Duckie  replied,  "such  a  nice  gentle- 
man as  you  are ;  but  you've  —  you've " 

"I've  answered  her  purpose,"  I  suggested  bravely. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Duckie,  without  the  faintest  trace 
of  mercy. 

"And  what  about  bringing  up  —  education  and  so 
forth?" 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Falconer  will  do  that  beautifully,"  said 
this  vixen.     "I  couldn't  think  of  a  better  mother." 

I  was  struck  dumb  for  a  while.  Here  was  an 
attitude  for  a  woman  (and  one's  old  landlady  too, 
thus  aggravating  the  offence)  to  take  up  to  a  lord  of 
creation  ! 

"So  you  don't  think  husbands  are  any  other  use?" 
I  asked  at  last. 

"They  bring  in  the  money,  of  course,"  she  replied, 
"but   that's   all.     They  don't   really  help  with  the 


280  LONDON  LAVENDER 

children  —  not  most  of  them  don't.  A  few,  yes,  but 
even  those  very  likely  are  only  a  bother,  when  all's 
said,  and  in  your  case  there's  enough  money  already." 

No  need  to  say  that  I  was  glad  when  she  had 
gone ;  but  when  I  peeped  into  Naomi's  room  and  the 
nurse  (who  used  to  be  a  nice  woman)  hushed  me 
sternly  away,  my  spirits  sank  again.' 

I  walked  out  into  Regent's  Park  and  sat  down 
and  thought  about  it.  City  men  in  tall  hats  were 
hastening  home.  "Foolish  to  be  in  such  a  hurry,"  I 
said;  " you're  not  wanted.  Homes  are  for  women. 
Leave  the  money  for  the  rent  and  the  butcher  and 
get  out  again."  Nurses  and  mothers  were  here  and 
there  with  their  charges.  "Ladies,"  I  said,  "I  salute 
you.  Permit  one  who  could  die  to-morrow,  if  he 
liked,  without  being  missed,  to  bid  you  farewell. 
Not,  however,  that  your  reign  is  much  longer  than 
mine  —  but  a  little  longer.  Wait  till  those  babies  are 
of  age  and  see  then  how  much  you  are  needed!" 
Children  were  playing  all  about.  "To  you,"  I  said, 
apostrophizing  them  at  large,  "is  the  earth  and  the 
fulness  thereof.  It  is  for  you  that  all  Nature  is 
working,  but  only  that  you  may  work  for  her,  for 
she  does  nothing  for  nothing.  In  a  few  years'  time 
you  too  will  be  fathers  and  mothers  under  sentence, 
like  me.     So  play  on  and  be  happy  while  you  can.': 

As  I  was  sitting  there  Lacey  came  up  and  joined 
me.  "You  look  blue,"  he  said  —  "so  am  I.  It's  that 
infernally  beautiful  sunset  that's  done  it.  Not  for 
nothing  did  Diirer  give  his  '  Melancholia  '  the  setting 


LONDON  LAVENDER  281 

sun.  What's  the  matter?  Have  you  suddenly  dis- 
covered that  your  nose  is  out  of  joint  ?  "  (What  an 
instinct  the  fellow  has!)  "Every  baby  puts  some- 
one's nose  out  of  joint ;  either  its  father's  or  mother's 
or  another  baby's.  But  that's  all  right.  That's  part 
of  the  fun.  Life  is  nothing  but  readjusting.  Lovers 
are  always  becoming  parents.  There's  no  sense 
in  the  world,  only  movement;  but  luckily  we  all 
have  our  moments  off,  and  the  thing  is  to  get  as 
many  of  them  as  possible.  That's  the  principal 
reason  why  brewers  and  distillers  are  so  rich  and 
noble,  and  why  old  Furley's  films  do  so  well. 
Anodynes,  don't  you  see ;  devices  for  cheating  facts. 
Take  me  into  the  Zoo  with  your  powerful  autograph 
and  we'll  soon  forget  our  troubles.  There's  a  little 
kinkajou  on  the  right  as  we  go  in,  with  a  tail  like  a 
boa,  who  hangs  round  your  neck  and  drives  all  griefs 
away.  I  dare  say,  if  we  only  knew,  there's  a  wild 
animal  for  every  mental  malady." 

We  went  in  and  strolled  about  for  a  while :  be- 
waring of  pickpockets,  according  to  instructions. 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,"  said  Lacey,  as  we  sat  down 
in  the  little  pavilion  reserved  for  Fellows  and  ordered 
something  to  drink,  "I  am  miserable  too.  But  then 
that's  about  all  I  expect.  I've  made  such  a  mess  of 
things.  Never  mind  how,  but  I  have.  I  get  too 
fond  of  too  many  people.  Anyway,  I  called  on  an 
old  flame  of  mine  to-day  who  is  married  —  happily 
married  —  and  it  hurt.  I  ought  to  have  married  her 
myself,   but  things  went  wrong.     I  understood  her 


282  LONDON  LAVENDER! 

and  she  understood  me,  but  we  had  no  luck.  At 
least  perhaps  she  did.  We  fenced  a  good  deal  to- 
day, of  course.  It  was  the  only  thing  to  do.  She 
asked  me  that  inevitable  question,  What  I  was  doing 
with  my  life  and  going  to  do?  When  a  happily 
married  woman  asks  tins  it  means  only  one  thing :  it 
means,  When  are  you  going  to  be  happily  married 
too?  I  said  I  had  no  reason  to  admire  marriage 
sufficiently  to  think  of  nothing  else. 

" '  But  love  ? '  she  asked. 

"I  admitted  that  love  was  all  right,  and  was  silent 
in  the  idiotic  way  that  one  is,  at  intervals,  during 
such  meetings. 

"'Well?'  she  asked  after  a  while. 

"'I  have  nothing  to  report,'  I  replied.  Nor  had  I, 
Heaven  knows;  yet  I  should  not  have  mentioned 
it,  even  if  I  had.  There  is  no  pleasure  in  con- 
fessing to  those  who  belong  to  another.  She  was 
still  charming  and  beautiful  and  sympathetic ;  but 
sympathy  when  one  comes  second  is  a  very  different 
thing  from  sympathy  when  one  might  possibly  come 
first.  And  then  I  left  the  house  and,  of  course,  for  a 
while  I  saw  nothing  but  pretty  girls  on  young  fellows' 
arms,  as  one  always  does  when  one's  most  lonely  and 
miserable ;  and  then  I  walked  bang  into  that  blight- 
ing sunset  and  then  into  you." 

He  said  nothing  for  a  while  and  we  watched  the 
passers-by. 

"How  happy  other  people  can  be,  confound  them!" 
he  said.     "And  that  is  why  one  is  never  so  wretched 


LONDON  LAVENDER  283 

as  in  a  crowd.  Omar's  comparison  of  life  to  a  game 
of  chess  — 

'But  helpless  Pieces  of  the  Game  He  plays 
Upon  the  Chequer-board  of  Nights  and  Days ; 
.   Hither  and  thither  moves,  and  checks,  and  stays, 
And  one  by  one  back  in  the  Closet  lays  — ' 

is  no  doubt  true  enough  to  such  a  pessimistic  mind 
as  poor,  fastidious,  solitary  FitzGerald's  and  those 
of  us  to  whom  the  Creator  has  not  given  the  happy 
acceptive  temperament.  But  when  one  hears  the 
stories  that  London  —  and  I  suppose  all  other  towns 
and  cities  —  has  in  such  numbers,  of  frustrated  affec- 
tions and  loveless  marriages  and  irregular  alliances, 
it  is  rather  as  His  jig-saw  puzzle  that  one  sees  life, 
where  the  least  likely  pieces  fit  together  and  the  most 
likely  can  never  be  joined.     Well!" 

He  got  up.  "Now  I'm  going  to  be  jolly  again," 
he  said.  "Life,  with  all  its  bothers  and  disappoint- 
ments and  disillusions,  and  even  with  the  circum- 
stance that  one  has  to  live  it  chiefly  with  that 
impostor  oneself,  is  too  good  to  run  down.  There 
are  so  many  little  things  to  keep  one  going.  Here, 
for  example,  see  what  I  found  to-day  in  a  West  End 
bookseller's  catalogue : 

A  Kempis.  Imitation  of  Christ.  Printed  on  Real  Vellum 
(only  ten  copies  issued) .  Illuminated  Frontispiece  and 
Illuminated  Fronts,  and  all  the  initials  illuminated. 
Bound  in  Cape  Levant  Morocco  Red,  tooled  in  blind 
design  with  doublures.     £18  18s.  net. 


284  LONDON  LAVENDER 

There's  a  first  step  towards  imitating  the  simple 
Nazarene  !  Eighteen  guineas  for  the  primer.  One  has 
no  right  to  be  doleful  in  a  world  where  things  like  this 
happen." 

Lacey's  revived  spirits  did  me  good,  and  on 
returning  home  I  found  Naomi  more  sweet  than 
ever  before,  and  even  Nan  conveyed  some  of  the 
illusion  of  pleasure  at  my  approach,  although  the 
nurse  (who  was  otherwise  her  old  self  again)  insisted 
that  the  phenomenon  was  purely  the  effect  of  internal 
disturbance. 

Lacey  was  more  right  than  not.  I  did  not  and 
shall  not  forget  what  Mrs.  Duckie  said,  because  I 
know  it  to  be  true ;  but  it  has  already  sunk  below  the 
surface  of  memory  into  that  woolly  receptacle  where 
so  much  of  the  past  is  preserved.  Not  often  do  I 
bring  it  out,  but  it  has  a  way  of  desiring  an  airing 
between  four  and  five  a.m.  when  one's  pulse  is  at  its 
lowest  and  hope  almost  non-existent ;  and  I  am  often 
conscious  of  its  presence  when  I  watch  Naomi  and 
Nan  together,  or,  greatly  daring,  take  Nan  into  my 
own  hands.  Greatly  daring  !  —  there  you  have  it 
again.  For  Naomi  does  not  greatly  dare:  she  picks 
up  this  fragile  pink  atom  as  naturally  and  unthink- 
ingly as  a  cricketer  picks  up  the  ball. 

Nan,  I  must  admit,  does  not  help  me.  Perhaps 
some  day,  as  I  tell  her,  when  she  is  tall  and  slender  and 
seventeen,  she  will  be  more  ready  to  accompany  her 
grey  father  than  her  bonny  mother ;  and  then  (if  I 
have  succeeded  in  living  so  long)  I  shall  be  in  receipt 


LONDON  LAVENDER  285 

of  a  little  return  for  all  my  services  to  Nature.  But 
it  will  be  only  for  a  brief  season  then,  for  her  eyes 
will  be  beginning  to  wander  this  way  and  that  for 
the  comely  form  (as  she  considers  it)  of  another  of 
Nature's  dupes,  who  at  this  moment  is  perhaps  squeal- 
ing in  another  awkward  progenitor's  arms  in  some 
other  London  nursery.  For  life,  as  Lacey  says,  is  all 
progression,  if  not  progress. 

Nan,  as  I  say,  gives  me  no  help.  There  is  some- 
thing about  my  features,  which  are  not  unpleasing 
to  many  of  my  friends,  that  she  finds  curiously 
terrifying;  and  the  more  kindly  disposed  I  am  to 
her  and  beam  with  tenderness  on  her  little  person, 
the  more  evidently  do  I  remind  her  of  one  of  the 
most  fearsome  monsters  of  that  mysterious  nowhere 
from  which  she  journeyed  hither. 

But  with  her  mother  .  .  .  !  The  two  together 
make  such  an  adorable  picture  that  I  wish  I  could 
get  it  painted  by  a  worthy  brush.  The  balance  of  sex 
wants  readjusting  among  the  representations,  both 
in  paint  and  in  stone,  of  mother  and  child.  For  cen- 
turies no  man  of  genius  ever  painted  or  graved  a  girl- 
baby  at  all :  there  might  not  have  been  such  a  thing 
in  the  world.  In  fact,  if  art  and  not  biology  were 
the  evidence  upon  which  the  historian  has  to  work, 
there  never  was  a  girl-baby  until  quite  recently.  It 
is  a  great  pity,  because  this  preoccupation  with  the 
boy-baby  has  deprived  us  of  renderings  of  girl-babies 
which  would  have  been  exquisite  beyond  imagination. 
Think  what  adorable  little  nestling  mites  Luca  della 


286  LONDON  LAVENDER 

Robbia  could  have  moulded,  and  what  tiny  feminine 
rogues  Correggio  would  have  painted  !  One  wonders 
that  no  artist  rebelled.  Did  none  of  them  ever  look 
at  a  family  of  children  and  think  the  little  girls 
lovely?  Or,  against  their  better  taste,  did  they 
merely  slavishly  obey  tradition? 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

IN  WHICH  A  TRYING  CEREMONY  GOES  FOR 
NOTHING,  AND  A  FATHER  PUTS  DOWN  HIS 
FOOT 

DOLLIE  and  Ann  walked  in  after  lunch,  looking, 
as  I  think  now,  a  shade  less  natural  than  usual, 
but  only  a  shade.  Their  visit  was  so  remarkable 
that  I  wish  to  record  its  progress  with  minute 
accuracy. 

Dollie  greeted  us  with  a  somewhat  piano  "Wow, 
wow  !"  and  sat  himself  in  the  most  comfortable  chair. 
Ann  took  a  chair  by  the  window  and  asked  how 
Lavender  was,  and  if  she  might  see  her. 

Naomi  went  out  to  arrange  for  the  display, 
and  Dollie  asked  if  cigarette  smoke  was  bad 
for  it. 

I  asked  what  he  meant  by  "it,"  and  he  said  he 
meant  Lavender,  and  Ann  told  him  with  some 
asperity  that  he  ought  to  be  more  careful  in  referring 
to  babies.  She  seemed  more  critical  of  him  even  than 
usual. 

I  asked  after  her  father,  and  she  said  he  had 
seemed  all  right  at  breakfast. 

287 


288  LONDON  LAVENDER 

"Better  than  he'll  be  at  dinner,  I  guess,"  Dollie  said 
darkly,  and  Ann  frowned. 

After  a  long  silence  Dollie  said  that  it  had  turned 
colder.  He  then  asked  me  if  I  had  had  any  racing 
tips  lately,  and  I  asked  him  in  return  how  I,  moving 
in  the  society  that  I  did,  could  expect  to  have  any.  "I 
go  nowhere,"  I  said.  "Except  to  the  Zoo.  Besides, 
I  don't  want  tips." 

"Why  don't  you  ask  the  keepers?"  he  said,  and 
Ann  told  him  not  to  be  absurd. 

Naomi,  entering  with  Lavender,  made  a  diver- 
sion. 

Ann  asked  if  she  might  hold  her  and  was  exceed- 
ingly tender,  and  pretty  in  her  tenderness.  Dollie 
threw  away  his  cigarette,  surveyed  Lavender  minutely 
through  his  monocle,  and  said  nothing,  but  sighed 
heavily. 

Naomi  asked  Dollie  where  he  was  dining  that 
night,  and  he  looked  at  Ann. 

Ann  said  she  was  not  sure. 

I  drew  Dollie  to  the  window  and  said,  "  Well  ?" 

He  gripped  me  by  the  hand  and  took  out  another 
cigarette,  and  I  guessed  that  these  young  hesitants 
had  this  morning  come  at  last  to  grips,  and  that  the 
day  was  named,  and  I  was  feeling  very  complacent 
about  my  devilish  perspicacity  when  Ann  took  off 
her  gloves  and  revealed  the  newest  wedding-ring  on 
earth. 

And  then,  Lavender  having  been  removed,  on 
account  of  her  immaturity,  we  had  the  story.     These 


LONDON  LAVENDER  289 

young  idiots  had  been  registered  that  very  morning, 
and  Sir  Gaston  did  not  yet  know. 

"But  why  weren't  you  married  properly?"  Naomi 
asked. 

"Well,"  said  Ann,  "we  didn't  want  the  fuss  of  a 
wedding,  and,  honestly,  I  wanted  to  save  father  all 
that  trouble  and  expense. " 

"But  it's  so  furtive-looking,"  Naomi  said. 

" That's  all  right,"  said  Dollie.  "  We  had  witnesses. 
Farrar  was  there  and  Gwen.  Farrar  signed  the 
book  like  a  good  'un.  All  straight  and  above 
board." 

"  Yes,"  said  Naomi,  "  that's  all  right,  I  know,  but, 
Ann,  think  of  your  grandmother,  old  Mrs.  Ingleside. 
She  would  have  given  everything  to  be  at  your 
wedding.     And  your  mother,  Dollie." 

"Oh  well,"  said  Dollie,  "my  mother  gave  me  up  as 
a  conventional  being  years  ago.  She'll  be  jolly  glad 
I'm  settled  and  done  for.     That's  what  she'll  say." 

"But  your  sisters ?  How  they  would  have  enjoyed 
being  bridesmaids  !" 

"Not  they,"  said  Dollie;  "they've  done  it  too 
often.  Besides,  I  protest  against  marrying  in  order 
to  give  one's  people  enjoyment.  That's  all  out  of 
date.  Ann  and  I  wanted  to  save  fuss,  and,  by  Jingo, 
we've  done  it ! " 

"And  what  is  the  next  move?"  I  asked. 

"Well,"  said  Ann,  "we  wondered  if  you  would 
come  down  to  Buckingham  Street  with  us  and  help 
with  father." 


290  LONDON  LAVENDER 

"I  like  that,"  I  was  beginning  to  say,  when,  "Of 
course  he  will,"  said  Naomi. 

Sir  Gaston  was  in  when  we  arrived. 

After  greeting  me,  he  looked  at  Dollie  and  re- 
marked that  he  had  the  appearance  of  one  who  had 
backed  a  loser. 

Dollie  groaned.  "Not  so  bad  as  that,  I  hope," 
he  murmured. 

Ann  went  over  to  her  father  and  kissed  him. 

He  seemed  rather  surprised,  but  merely  asked 
what  he  had  done  to  receive  such  an  unusual  atten- 
tion. 

Ann  replied  that  she  felt  like  it,  and  I  realized  that 
the  time  had  come  to  stop  this  drama  of  reticences 
and  disguised  feelings. 

"Well,  Ingleside,"  I  said,  "I  must  say  you  take  it 
very  much  as  a  matter  of  course." 

"What?"  he  asked. 

"Why,  a  kiss  from  a  pretty,  young,  married 
woman,"  I  said. 

"Good  Heavens  !"  he  exclaimed,  running  his  keen 
eyes  over  Ann  and  Dollie. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "this  is  Mrs.  Adolphus  Heathcote. 
She  asked  me  to  introduce  her." 

"I'm  very  glad,"  he  said.  "Have  some  cake,"  and 
we  all  mercifully  laughed,  and  the  strain  snapped. 

"But,"  he  said  a  little  later,  "we  must  now  fix  the 
date  of  the  wedding." 

"We  are  married,"  said  Ann.  "Look  at  my 
ring." 


LONDON  LAVENDER  291 

"Yes,"  said  her  father.  "That's  all  right.  But 
we'll  forget  that.  I  can't  have  my  daughter  marrying 
in  this  hole-and-corner  way.  Saving  trouble  and 
expense  is  all  very  well,  but  there  are  things  more 
important.  One  of  them  is  giving  my  aged  mother 
an  opportunity  of  seeing  you  at  the  chancel  steps. 
There  are  others,  too,  but  that  comes  first.  Now  get 
out  an  almanack  —  I'm  sure  Dollie  has  a  bookmaker's 
diary  in  his  pocket  —  and  find  the  earliest  date  for 
dresses  and  so  forth,  and  we'll  get  it  over  properly; 
but  until  then  you  must  consider  yourself  still  Ann 
Ingleside." 

Dollie  looked  by  no  means  cheerful  as  he  searched 
for  the  diary. 

"I'm  afraid  you're  vexed  with  me?"  he  said  to 
Sir  Gaston. 

"Not  at  all,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  should  have  been, 
if  you  hadn't  come  to  me  to-day.  But  your  mother 
and  sisters  ought  to  be." 

"That's  a  cert,"  said  Dollie. 

"Yes,  and  there's  someone  who  would  have  been 
even  more  furious  than  any  of  them,"  said  Sir  Gaston. 

"Who?"  Dollie  asked. 

"Your  tailor.  The  idea  of  trying  to  evade  destiny 
in  this  way  !  If  ever  there  was  a  man  born  to  be 
married  in  new  clothes,  it  is  you,  and  you  sneak 
about  London  in  tweeds  trying  to  find  a  registrar 
base  enough  to  be  your  accomplice.  Now,  Ann  has 
never  been  dressy.  For  Ann  it  was  all  right.  But 
you  —  my  dear  Dollie,  never  do  anything  so  out  of 


292 


LONDON  LAVENDER 


character  again.  It  doesn't  suit  you.  Go  right  off 
to  Savile  Row  the  first  thing  in  the  morning  and 
arrange  for  the  war-paint,  and  Ann,  in  her  own  more 
restricted  way,  will  do  the  same.  Meanwhile,  I  claim 
the  custody  of  the  ring." 

The  next  evening  I  chanced  to  run  across  Dollie 
in  St.  James's  Park  as  I  was  on  my  way  to  Queen 
Anne's  Gate,  and  he  had  a  smile  that  irradiated  his 
honest  countenance  like  the  sun  on  the  sea.  He 
unfolded  an  evening  paper,  and  although  the  breeze 
defeated  his  efforts  several  times,  he  pronounced  no 
malediction.  Evidently  Mr.  Adolphus  Heathcote 
was  in  a  good  temper. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  "here's  a  little  bit  of  all 
right." 

I  followed  the  direction  of  his  gloved  finger  and 
saw  that  a  horse  named  Decree  Nisi  had  won  a 
race. 

"Wait  a  bit,"  he  said,  moving  his  finger  lower,  and 
I  saw  that  the  starting  price  of  Decree  Nisi  was  20 
to  1. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  he  asked.  "Not 
bad  odds?" 

"Very  good,"  I  said. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "what  do  you  think  I  did?  After 
the  painful  experiences  of  yesterday  I  took  them  as 
a  tip,  because,  don't  you  see,  I  was,  in  a  manner  of 
speaking,  jolly  well  divorced  last  evening,  wasn't  I? 
Very  well.  I  added  the  cost  of  the  wedding  ring  — 
three  pounds  ten,  for  it  was  a  downright,  solid  affair, 


LONDON  LAVENDER  293 

as  I  dare  say  you  noticed  —  to  the  cost  of  the  special 
licence,  and  put  the  whole  boiling  on  Decree  Nisi. 
And  it  romps  in  at  20  to  1.  Never  let  me  hear  anyone 
talk  about  marriage  being  unlucky  again.  Wow, 
wow !" 


CHAPTER  THE  LAST 

IN  WHICH  FAREWELL  IS  SAID  TO  PRIMROSE 
TERRACE,  AND  THE  EARTH  FINDS  A  NEW 
AXIS 

I  WRITE  these  final  words  in  another  house,  not 
too  far  from  Primrose  Terrace  and  our  dear  Lacey 
and  the  Zoo;  a  house  with  its  own  garden.  For 
Lavender  could  not  flourish  in  the  Misses  Packers' 
restricted  space,  and  Lavender  is,  of  course,  the 
principal  person  to  consider.  And  since  it  is  a  house 
with  a  garden,  and  all  our  own,  it  follows  (in  London) 
that  we  have  no  neighbours,  and  therefore,  not 
having  neighbours  any  more  to  describe,  there  is 
nothing  to  do  but  to  take  my  novelist  friend's  best 
piece  of  advice. 

Finding  the  right  house  was  as  difficult  as  ever  it 
is,  and  was  attended  by  the  usual  rages  as  we  gazed 
upon  ideal  residences  already  selfishly  occupied  by 
other  persons;  more  difficult,  indeed,  since  it  was 
to  be  the  theatre  of  the  dramas  of  Lavender's 
infancy,  childhood,  girlhood,  and  young  woman- 
hood.    No  joke  selecting  an  historic  abode  of  this 

kind. 

294 


LONDON  LAVENDER  295 

Yet  here  we  are,  on  our  first  evening,  and  Lavender 
(whose  home  it  so  pre-eminently  is)  has  just  con- 
sented to  fall  asleep. 

The  house  —  but,  excuse  me,  I  feel  certain  I  heard 
her  cry. 


THE    END 


n^HE  following  pages  contain  advertise- 
ments of  a  few  of  the  Macmillan  novels 


Other  Books  by  E.  V.  LUCAS 

Over  Bemerton's 

A  Novel 

After  seeing  modern  problems  vividly  dissected,  and  after  the 
excitement  of  thrilling  adventure  stories,  it  will  be  positively 
restful  to  drop  into  the  cozy  lodgings  over  Bemerton's  second- 
hand bookstore  for  a  drifting,  delightful  talk  with  a  man  of 
wide  reading,  who  has  travelled  in  unexpected  places,  who 
has  an  original  way  of  looking  at  life,  and  a  happy  knack  of 
expressing  what  is  seen.  There  are  few  books  which  so  per- 
fectly suggest  without  apparent  effort  a  charmingly  natural  and 
real  personality. 

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Mr.  Ingleside 


The  author  almost  succeeds  in  making  the  reader  believe  that 
he  is  actually  mingling  with  the  people  of  the  story  and  at- 
tending their  picnics  and  parties.  Some  of  them  are  Dicken- 
sian  and  quaint,  some  of  them  splendid  types  of  to-day,  but  all 
of  them  are  touched  off  with  sympathy  and  skill  and  with  that 
gentle  humor  in  which  Mr.  Lucas  shows  the  intimate  quality, 
the  underlying  tender  humanity,  of  his  art. 

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Listener's  Lure 

A  Kensington  Comedy 

A  novel,  original  and  pleasing,  whose  special  charm  lies  in  its 
happy  phrasing  of  acute  observations  of  life.  For  the  delicacy 
with  which  his  personalities  reveal  themselves  through  their 
own  letters,  "  the  book  might  be  favorably  compared,"  says 
the  Chicago  Tribune,  "  with  much  of  Jane  Austen's  character 
work"  —  and  the  critic  proceeds  to  justify,  by  quotations, what 
he  admits  is  high  praise  indeed. 

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Anthologies  of  Varied  Charm  Collected  by  E.  V.  LUCAS 

The  Gentlest  Art 

A  Choice  of  Letters  by  Entertaining  Hands 

An  anthology  of  letter  writing,  so  human,  interesting,  and  amus- 
ing from  first  to  last,  as  almost  to  inspire  one  to  attempt  the 
restoration  of  a  lost  art.  "  We  do  not  believe  that  a  more  lik- 
able book  has  been  published  this  year."  —  The  Evening  Post, 
Chicago. 

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The  Second  Post 

A  Further  Collection  of  Entertaining  Letters 

A  more  charming  book  of  letters  could  hardly  be  desired  than 
Mr.  Lucas's  "The  Gentlest  Art";  his  new  volume  has  the 
same  delightful  savor  of  interesting  personalities,  and  is  equally 
likable. 

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The  Ladies'  Pageant 


Better  than  any  one  else  whose  name  comes  to  mind,  Mr.  Lucas 
has  mastered  the  difficult  art  of  the  compiler.  There  is  more 
individuality  in  "The  Gentlest  Art,"  for  instance,  than  in  the 
so-called  original  works  of  many  an  author.  This  happy  knack 
of  assembling  the  best  things  in  the  world  on  a  given  subject 
is  given  free  play  in  the  present  book,  the  subject  of  which  is 
the  Eternal  Feminine.  Here  are  all  the  best  words  of  the 
poets  on  a  theme  which  surely  offers  scope  for  more  variety 
than  any  other  within  the  view  of  the  reader.  Like  others  of 
Mr.  Lucas's  books,  this  is  attractively  bound  and  decorated. 

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lome  Friends  of  Mine 

A  Rally  of  Men 

A  companion  volume  to  "The  Ladies'  Pageant,"  wherein  one 
may  meet  "  soldier  and  sailor,  tinker  and  tailor,"  and  all  the 
kinds  of  men  whom  it  takes  to  make  a  most  interesting  world. 

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Books  of  Travel  by  E.  V.  LUCAS 

A  Wanderer  in  London 

With  sixteen  illustrations  in  color  by  Mr.  Nelson  Dawson 
and  thirty-six  reproductions  of  great  pictures 

Cloth,  8vo,  $1.75  net;  by  mail,  $1.87 
"Mr.  Lucas  describes  London  in  a  style  that  is  always  enter- 
taining, surprisingly  like  Andrew  Lang's,  full  of  unexpected 
suggestions  and  points  of  view,  so  that  one  who  knows  Lon- 
don well  will  hereafter  look  on  it  with  changed  eyes,  and  one 
who  has  only  a  bowing  acquaintance  will  feel  that  he  has  sud- 
denly become  intimate."  —  The  Nation. 

A  Wanderer  in  Holland 

With  twenty  illustrations  in  color  by  Herbert  Marshall 
besides  many  reproductions  of  the  masterpieces  of  Dutch  painters 

Cloth,  8vo,  $2.00  net;  by  mail,  $2.14 
"It  is  not  very  easy  to  point  out  the  merits  which  make  this 
volume  immeasurably  superior  to  nine-tenths  of  the  books  of 
travel  that  are  offered  the  public  from  time  to  time.  Perhaps 
it  is  to  be  traced  to  the  fact  that  Mr.  Lucas  is  an  intellectual 
loiterer,  rather  than  a  keen-eyed  reporter,  eager  to  catch  a  train 
for  the  next  stopping-place.  It  is  also  to  be  found  partially  in 
the  fact  that  the  author  is  so  much  in  love  with  the  artistic  life 
of  Holland."  —  Globe-Democrat,  St.  Louis. 
"  It  is  hard  to  imagine  a  pleasanter  book  of  its  kind."  —  Cou- 
rier-Journal, Louisville. 

A  Wanderer  in  Paris 

With  sixteen  illustrations  in  color  by  Walter  Dexter 
and  thirty-two  reproductions  of  works  of  art  in  half-tone 

Cloth,  crown  8vo,  $1.75  net;  by  mail,  $1.87 
In  some  respects  it  is  a  glorified  Baedeker,  a  guide  for  the 
traveller  interested  in  French  history,  in  pictures,  and  in  the 
distinctive  qualities  of  the  French  people.  There  is  charm  in 
its  vivid  painting  of  the  vivacity  and  gayety  of  Paris  streets, 
fine  analysis  in  the  penetration  that  sees  often  a  suggestion  of 
anxiety  under  the  animation  of  face  and  gesture.  He  has  a 
happy  faculty  of  creating  a  desire  to  see  the  scenes  he  describes 
and  a  knack  of  expressing  exactly  the  shade  of  pleasure  the 
cultivated  traveller  has  felt  and  perhaps  been  unable  to  put 
into  words. 

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Volumes  of  Essays  by  E.  V.  LUCAS 

Character  and  Comedy 

"  Of  all  the  readers  of  Charles  Lamb  who  have  striven  to  emu- 
late him,  Mr.  Lucas  comes  nearest  to  being  worthy  of  him. 
Perhaps  it  is  because  it  is  natural  to  him  to  look  upon  life  and 
letters  and  all  things  with  something  of  Lamb's  gentleness, 
sweetness,  and  humor."  —  The  Tribune. 

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One  Day  and  Another 


"The  informality,  intimacy,  unaffected  humor,  of  these  unpre- 
tentious papers  make  them  delightful  reading." — The  Outlook. 

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BOOKS  FOR   CHILDREN 

Anne's  Terrible  Good  Nature 

A  book  of  stories  delightfully  lighted  up  with  such  a  whimsical 
strain  of  humor  as  children  enjoy. 

Cloth,  i2mo,  colored  illustrations,  $1.75 

The  Slowcoach 

Mr.  Lucas  has  a  unique  way  of  looking  at  life,  of  seeing  the 
humor  of  everyday  things,  which  exactly  suits  the  butterfly 
fancy  of  a  bright  child. 

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Another  Book  of  Verse  for  Children 

Verses  of  the  seasons,  of  "  little  fowls  of  the  air,"  and  of  "  the 
country  road"  ;  ballads  of  sailormen  and  of  battle;  songs  of 
the  hearthrug,  and  of  the  joy  of  being  alive  and  a  child, 
selected  by  Mr.  Lucas  and  illustrated  in  black  and  white  and 
with  colored  plates  by  Mr.  F.  D.  Bedford.  The  wording  of 
the  title  is  an  allusion  to  the  very  successful  "  Book  of  Verse 
for  Children  "  issued  ten  years  ago.  The  Athenaum  describes 
Mr.  Lucas  as  "  the  ideal  editor  for  such  a  book  as  this." 

Cloth,  8vo,  colored  illustrations,  $1.50  net 

Three  Hundred  Games  and  Pastimes 

Or,  What  Shall  We  Do  Now  ?  A  book  of  suggestions  for 
the  employment  of  young  hands  and  minds,  directions  for 
playing  many  children's  games,  etc. 

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